


Abounded

by Kara_Writes (Nunchi_Writes)



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Character Death, F/M, I don't know how to write shorter stories Sorry Not Sorry, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda?, Let's try to not spoil the entire story in the tags, No Smut, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Swearing, The reader won't be the only one to have social anxiety, Veeerrryyyyy Slow burn, no beta we die like men, okay a lot of characters have some kind of ptsd, some characters have PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2019-09-21 09:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 107,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17040755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nunchi_Writes/pseuds/Kara_Writes
Summary: You’ve never liked the idea of slavery, but you can’t turn a blind eye to the corruption in your country any longer after impulsively saving a weak slave, Jongdae, by buying him. However, with your father being high in the ranks of the Emberline Slave Exchange, the leading corporation in the slave business, you don't have many other options than to continue playing along. That is, until you stumble upon an option you didn't know existed.“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”– Albert Camus





	1. Unexpected Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be putting possible trigger warnings and such at the beginnings of each chapter, just in case! :)
> 
> Warnings: How anxiety affects me personally

    You are currently sitting up on one of the many balconies in the Slave Hall, which are lined up against the walls of the very tall and large hallway with red walls and black flooring. The area is wide and long enough to fit a short, three-lane road, and the ceiling rises up at least three floors. Yet, somehow, this place is still completely packed with people, upper class and slaves alike. The lights glowing and flashing in the hall could be mistaken for those in a club of sorts if there was music accompanying them instead of angry and pained shouts and cries from the sea of people below. Purple, blue, and a dull white glow with occasional short flashes of red can be found everywhere in the otherwise dark area. The loud commotion comes from below you, where the main floor is full of people fighting each other while trying to pull up their pickings from this month’s choices of slaves up to their “safe zone”, their balcony, where nobody can steal their chosen slaves away.

    You and someone who claims to be your friend paid quite a bit extra to sit in the front of the massive, crowded hall. You’re placed in the sectioned off V.I.P. area right next to the doors where the slaves first enter, so you two have the ability to choose the best ones that come through. You personally don't want one at all, you don’t like the idea of slaves in general, actually, and you don’t do well in crowds either. Your “friend” wanted a specific slave that has been shown on the Emberline's Slave Exchange, or ESE, advertisements recently, and you were peer pressured into to helping her find him by your family and other so-called friends. It’s not like it matters too much to you in the end, she paid for nearly two-thirds of your ticket, and just being here will help make your step-parents stop suspecting you of being a slave sympathizer, a position which is severely punishable by law.

    She is currently standing on the balcony directly across and down a level from you on the opposite wall, hoping to cover more ground with both of you searching in different areas. That’s why you are on the third and top level balcony, so you can spot just  _that much_  more. You haven’t seen the slave she wants on the commercials, since you avoid the ESE channel like the plague, but she kindly gave you a picture of the dark-brunette earlier. You don’t know what it is with people and dark-haired slaves in recent days. You personally prefer how lighter-haired slaves tend to act around you more, but that may just be because of your negative views on slavery in general.

    The event is nearly over when the two of you finally spot his face towards the end of the line of available slaves. You signal your companion to go down her stairs and grab him because she’s closer, but she’s seemingly frozen, overwhelmed with emotions and tearing up. You then take it upon yourself with a loud groan to brave your social anxiety and grab him to bring him up to her yourself. If you don’t, she will probably get mad and tell your parents, who would in turn cut your monthly living allowance. You sprint down the three floors worth of wide spiral stairs as fast as you safely can, and skip the last three with a jump, leaving you panting from the sudden exercise and the panic rising from the large crowd of potentially dangerous strangers.

    You spot him just ahead and break into as much of a jog as the slowly growing crowd will allow you to and catch up to him. When you grab his arm from behind to keep him from going anywhere, he flinches back harshly and whips around to face you with wide eyes. You try to give a calming expression while motioning for him to follow you and gently tugging gently on his arm, completely aware that he is more than terrified. You turn back to signal to your so-called friend to come down and get him herself from here once more, but she only shakes her head, obviously upset and a bit scared. Then she signals that she doesn’t want him, after all.

    "I did  _not_  come down here for nothing." you grumble, too low to even hear yourself over the commotion.

    You turn your head to the giant group of desperate-looking people rushing towards you two; the class barriers of the event have been dropped in order to end it faster. You yell at the slave to ' _come on_ ' and tug on his wrist to make sure he was following close behind, which he did without resistance once he caught sight of the hoard of adults rushing towards your direction. The young slave is in your grasp, being half-dragged behind you as you both sprint up the steps to your platform, having to shove the couple of people away who attempted to cling onto the poor man in hopes of ripping him out of your grip.

    Once you both are at the top of your staircase and in your "safe zone" balcony, you slump onto the ground and take a quick breather. Participating in this slave exchange, one of the most normal things for a person of your status to do, is probably the craziest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. After you spend several minutes to calm down and lessen your shaking and panting, you are finally able to lift yourself back up and get a good look of the man you just impulsively claimed as yours.

    He has fluffy, light-blonde hair, meaning he was soft-spoken and calm. This is why your not-friend no longer wanted him. She specifically wanted him because he was shown with darker hair, translating to a more serious and tough type. You had absolutely no desire to gain a third slave, but you'd rather take him under your wing than leave him to the disgusting, perverted animals down on the floor, especially after you brought him all the way up here. Besides, it’s been several years since you’ve had a new face to talk to around your small manor. It might be good for you to have someone else to talk to throughout your usually-dull days.

    Although, just because you’ve already come to terms with this unexpected addition, does not mean you don’t try to send a glare your ex-friend’s way. When you do attempt to, however, you find her down on the floor instead, harshly grabbing a different dark-haired slave and bringing him up to her balcony as if this blonde-haired man never mattered to her in the first place. It makes you upset in a way. People don’t deserve this treatment, getting bought, then thrown out as if they’re worth nothing, but there’s nothing you or anyone can really do. It’s illegal to be a sympathiser, all for idiotic reasons your stepfather has recited to you time and time again.

    You turn your attention back to the young man, dropping any hate and aggravation in your gaze and replacing it with slight concern, not enough for strangers to see, but hopefully enough for him to be able to. The short boxers and thin, translucent flannel he is obviously uncomfortable wearing isn’t doing much to hide the fact that his ribs and hip bones a tad more pronounced than what is considered healthy. The poor guy began trembling violently under your worried stare, avoiding meeting it by staring wide-eyed his feet while gripping the bottom of his seemingly red flannel in the colored lights and tugging down on it to cover what little he can.

    The first thing you need do when he gets registered is to go to the store and buy him some real clothes, then get him some food and drinks. This is not okay. Although, it’s sadly not near the worst of them below you.

    You cautiously reach up your still-shivering hands and gently cup his cheeks and jaw with care, raising his head ever-so-gently, so you can look into his dark brown eyes that sparkle from the lights and tears threatening to fall. Even though you are the most awkward person for multiple reasons, you manage to plaster a welcoming and kind smile on your face and take a half of a step closer to him so you don’t have to yell as loud when you speak. You’re not worried about other people seeing this, they’ll assume you’re saying dirty things to the poor slave before they think you’re trying to comfort him.

    "Hey, it's going to be alright," you comfort him as softly as you can while still being heard, "I'll do my best to take care of you from now on. You’re safe now. I promise."

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •        

    For the rest of the monthly Emberline's Slave Exchange’s Slave Hall event, you and the man you’ve dragged up here stand in a silence you consider awkward, although, in reality, it’s probably a completely normal one. The slave, whom you don’t know what to call him yet, seems to be slightly more relaxed than before because of this silence. Once the expo officially ends about half an hour later, you lead him down your staircase and join the mass of people leaving ginormous hall without a single glance in your ex-friend's direction. You get swept up into the thick of the crowd of people exiting, despite trying your best to stick to the walls, which makes your heart rate spike up significantly. You subconsciously reach over and grip your new slave’s wrist, wanting any form of familiarity among this unpredictable crowd. It only takes a few seconds to realize that he may not like this at all, so you turn to look at how he’s holding up. He’s in the same state as when you first brought him to your platform, and is obviously uncomfortable with you touching him. You immediately let go and shoot him an apologetic look when he subtly glances over to you with genuine surprise.

    After waiting a painfully long time for people to slowly walk through the main hall doors (seriously, it has been almost an hour since the event officially ended), you lightly grasp the cuff of your new slave's sleeve and take him to the lines of people waiting to get their slaves registered under their names. The ceilings are at least twelve feet high, and the room has enough floor space to make it seem proportional to a normal room. The size of this room would usually allow you to calm down faster, but it’s currently filled with tables and people lined up for them between red, velvet ropes attached to golden poles, making it seem much more crowded and full.

    The two of you eventually make it to the front of the line for “house slave registration”, where an older lady gives you a small stack of paperwork to fill out and return to a different desk by the exit. You mutter your polite “thank you”s and lead the blonde man to sit against the far wall, away from where anybody else is, with the unmarked packet of papers in your hand. You take advantage of the coolness of the floor and wall to help calm you down, closing your eyes taking deep breaths. You relish in the feeling for a few moments before forcing your attention back to the paperwork on your lap. You start working on filling in your personal information, and move on to complete the slave portion of the forms as best you can once you’re done, but get stumped on the third empty space.

    “What’s your name?” you ask in a careful tone, forcing your voice to stay level, so you don’t accidentally make him worry more than he is already.

    “Whatever you’d like it to be, M’lady.” he recites. You’ve heard these lines before from your other two slaves. Well, you call them slaves, but they’re more like brothers to you than anything else.

  You sigh and look over at him, whispering “I’d like to call you by your preferred name. You’re still a person and deserve at least that in this cruel world. And while in private, feel free to just call me by my first name, Y/n, but only if you’d like. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.” You flash the kindest grin you can while your nerves eat away at you because of the people that are looking your way. You don’t need to look around to know this when you can feel each individual stare etching designs into your skin. You manage to somehow convince yourself that they’re only staring because you’ve chosen the floor over the clutter of chairs and tables where the others placed themselves. That and because of who your father is.

   The man next to you meets your eyes for the third time tonight, but only for just long enough to answer your question.

   “My mother called me Jongdae, Miss Y/n, Although the trainers called me Chen instead.” You notice he seems to relax, it’s so slight that it’d go unnoticed by anyone not paying close attention to him. You nod in acknowledgement, inwardly ecstatic that he’s already stopped calling you “Mistress” or “M’lady”, and he shifts his gaze back to the floor by his knees.

   “Okay, I’ll write down ‘Chen’ here, then. I like having separate names for when you need to act like a proper slave while other people are around, and when we’re just hanging out at home. This way, you can still keep your preferred name, while not giving it away to just anyone for them to abuse.” you try your best to explain. He slowly nods an acknowledgement.

    You continue to fill out the small stack of paperwork that will soon act as proof that you own Jongdae, asking him any questions you feel is necessary. Once that part is over, you prepare to skim over the last section of the form, as it’s required by ESE’s policy to refresh your memory on this information and sign at the end. You believe it’s rather dumb, but it’s just another thing you can’t control. In order to make sure people at least skim through this section over again for each time they buy another slave, the people who produce these packets add random, small tasks to complete placed within the information.

 

**_How to Evaluate the Types of Slaves_ **

_To ensure you are getting the product you want, we dye every slave’s hair in specific ways, so you can quickly and easily see what you are getting for your money. A successful slave owner can tell how likely it is to follow orders, and what types of orders it follows, if not all of them. A successful slave owner will also be able to tell its basic personality and outlook on life, so they can know if it will likely start quarrels with other slaves, or if it will make an acceptable head-slave. ~~Cross out all orders from this text~~. Let’s start with how to tell how many orders and what types of orders your slave will follow._

_The main color of a slave’s hair is always a neutral color (black, white, greys, browns). The amount of this base color that is shown in proportion to the other color(s) shows the kinds and approximate amount of orders that a slave is willing and/or able to follow. The more of this neutral base that shows, the more orders that a slave can and will follow without question. ~~Write the page number next to the third paragraph.~~  Most slaves’ hair consist of only neutral colors, and are used in nearly every way._

_If a slave has warm colors in its hair (reds, oranges, yellows, light/bright greens), this shows that it has a physical or mental condition that prevents it from following certain orders. ~~Underline the fifth word in the last paragraph~~. Slaves with these colors in their hair are best put to use as house servants, as they generally can not execute tough or demanding orders._

_If your slave’s hair has cool colors (blues, purples, dark greens), it means it doesn’t always directly follow orders simply because it has a more efficient way of completing a task, or it is able to easily take charge of any other lesser slaves when needed by you. The more cool colors that cover its hair, the more orders they may ask to replace with a slightly different method, and/or the more comfortable they are ordering other slaves around in your stead. That being said, these types usually irritate slave owners, or make the best head-slaves._

_A head-slave is a slave appointed by you, the owner, to keep the other, lesser slaves in check and on task in your absence. Although, do not be upset if you don’t own a cool-colored slave, these types are very uncommon, and many slave owners don’t get the chance to own this type. This is because the training camps that slaves must go through in order to be registered as safe for you to handle tries their best to ensure that your slave is submissive enough to follow most of your orders, which usually rids the slaves’ hair of any cool colors in the process. ~~Circle the heading of this section~~._

_Another factor to consider when evaluating your slave is the brightness of the hair itself. If your slave’s hair is dark colored (e.g. maroon red and black), then it tends to be very serious, pessimistic, and/or gets irritable easily. Pastel or pale colors (e.g. baby blue and light blonde), tends to represent soft spoken, realistic, and/or calmer slaves. ~~Underline and circle the page numbers on the previous three pages~~. Bright colors (e.g. tangerine orange and silver) tend to signify a slave that’s optimistic and/or generally more energetic than the other two types. Bright colored slaves are the most uncommon out of the three basic types for a similar reason as why cool colored slaves are uncommon._

_The dominant trait, which is shown by the color hue covering the most amount of hair, displays whether they are more calm, energetic, or serious/irritable. The lesser trait, the hue represented by the highlights/lowlights, is whether they are an optimist, realist, or pessimist._

_Using the knowledge given to you here, you should know that a slave that is light blonde with few bright pink highlights would be perceived as a calmer optimist, since the pastel is covering most of the hair. Meanwhile, a slave that has golden brown with a few pastel pink highlights would be perceived as a more energetic realist because a brighter color is dominant rather than a light one, but the neutral color remains dominant in both. Both slaves would follow most orders without question, and will offer new ways of doing things on occasion._

_There may be a time where you encounter a slave that has more than two colors displayed in its hair. ~~Write “Nearly There” at the top of this page~~. An example of this would be one that has blood-red hair with chestnut-brown and midnight-purple highlights. Since all of its hair is dark, you would be able to tell that that slave is a pessimist, usually serious, and can possibly get irritable easier than others.  ~~Sign the cover page of this form~~. You would know that it can’t follow very many orders for various reasons because the base color of its hair is a warm color, but will occasionally offer other ways to complete tasks given to them, proven by the cool-colored highlights._

_It is required by law that an owner considers and respects their slave’s mental and physical disabilities, as to not damage it further and lower their value. Emberline’s Slave Exchange uses special dyes that can only be removed and recolored by government-certified hairdressers. It is considered a crime to alter a slave’s hair without one, and is punishable by government law. We advise that you get your slaves retested every two years, so their hair’s color hues and ratios will always remain accurate in the case that they will be passed on to a different owner._

_Please sign your name in the box at the bottom of this page to finalize the process. Thank you for choosing Emberline’s Slave Exchange, and we hope your new slave exceeds your standards!_

 

   You finish skimming the information and completing the small, random tasks, then stand to turn in the signed contract, stretching subtly from being slouched against the wall. You pause to allow Jongdae to do the same, but he only stands with his head down as you figured he would. You timidly make your way over to the line of people who are waiting to get their temporary collars and collar cards for each one of their new slaves. You eventually make it to the front of the line, and mentally prepare yourself to recite the script you made in your head to the older man in front of you.

    “Hello, how are you today?” you ask with what you hope looks like a kind smile, rather than uncomfortable.

    He doesn’t look up from her screen as he responds curtly. “Fine. Your forms?”

    “Ah- Yes, here you go.” You fumble to get the papers in his hand, your shaking hands and lightheadedness don’t help. You should really get out more.

    He swiftly enters in your information and clicks around a bit. Then his face suddenly changes to one of shock, then to cheer that almost looks forced. You figure he finally recognized your last name and has decided to change his act completely around you.

    Your father happens to help run this area’s Emberline’s Slave Exchange Event, so he is known by most people who own slaves, and pretty much anyone who reads or watches the local news– even national news occasionally. There have actually been some rumors that your father’s going to get a promotion soon. As much as you hate what this business does, the money he makes really helps with living in this society. Poor people get looked down upon or turned into slaves, the middle class are just payed slaves that can be legally identified as people, and the rich like to think they’re worshipped. You’re lucky you were adopted into one of the most rich and well-known families of the local area, it comes in quite handy for situations like the one you’re in now. Most people act nicer to you, which is better for you inept social skills, but they don’t usually crowd you since you rarely show your face outside; they don’t recognize who you are.

    “Oh, Ms. Y/l/n! How lovely to finally see you at one of your father’s events! How is he doing these days? I hear he has big plans coming up.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Your hands are shaking a little less because of his kinder tone and posture, nonetheless.

    “He doesn’t tell me the details of his work, as it’s all confidential, but I’ve been hearing good things as well.” you lie. He tells you pretty much everything about his life and work, even things your stepmother doesn’t know about, but only because he knows how strictly you keep secrets.

    “Oh really? That’s good news then! I can’t wait to see what he has planned for ESE!” He prints off some papers and laminates a few cards, before handing you a vaguely familiar stack of things, one item at a time. “Here is the registration for your slave. This is an updated version of your licence. Here’s your collar card, just take this to any collar shop and they give you a free collar. Here is a temporary collar for your slave and the remote to go with it.” He hands you a small walkie-talkie-looking thing that has a screen on it, along with a very cheap and ugly collar. “I assume you already know what this does, but regulation says I have to repeat it,”

    The man continues, “Press this middle button here to call your slave, this button in the right side sends a call, so you can contact your slave when it’s away and this button on the left activates the tracking system. This lock and switch at the top activates whatever additions can be on a collar, such as a shock system, automated spikes, and heat. I just need you to sign here and here…” He gives you a light purple paper, and after reading the small print and terms and conditions (your father has taught you to  _always_  do so when in this type of business), you sign. He takes it back with a smile and gives you another paper, white this time. “And this is your receipt. Have a lovely day and thank you for choosing Emberline’s Slave Exchange!”

    You step away from the line with a small smile, gripping the papers and remote tight in an attempt to hide your shaking hands. You remember to keep your posture tall and proud, just as your stepfather taught you when you were younger. You indirectly represent a business, whether you like it or not, so you need to act the part, if only for your stepfather’s success and happiness. You get some stares, but that’s normal, being the daughter of a well-known man who’s never seen outside her home. Yet, it still hasn’t helped with your aversion to attention. One would assume that gaining attention when in public often would make the anxiety of being seen fade away. It doesn’t, sadly.

    You finally push the large building's doors open and walk out, and are met with the color grey and the feeling of a cold drizzle. You pull out your phone to call Chanyeol, one of your other two slaves. Chanyeol is your go-to guy for giving you rides to places, since you don’t have a license yet. He’s practically the definition of a silver-haired slave; light hearted, funny, and energetic, but he isn’t a pushover and knows exactly when to tone it down and be serious. He picks up before the first ring could finish its tone.

    “Greetings, Mistress. Is there anything I can do for you?” his cheery voice rang almost sarcastically through the phone.

    The only reason Chanyeol called you “Mistress” right then is because sometimes when you’re with your “friends” they make you put the phone on speaker. They’ve never been inside of your house, so they don’t see or hear of your slaves very often. They haven’t for a reason.

    “Hey, Chanyeol. Do you think Ky- D.O. would mind having the house to himself for a few hours?” you ignore his question, voice involuntarily wavering.

    “I don’t think he’d mind that at all, actually.” His voice drops to a serious tone, “Where am I picking you up and are you alright? What happened?”

    “I’m fine, just a bit jumpy from the mass of people here. I’m still at the ESE, but the jerk I went with isn’t with me anymore and I need to go to a few stores now.” You glance over at the shivering man slightly behind you while adding, “Can you see if D.O. would be willing to donate a set of warm clothes as well? I ended up getting a new addition for our little family and he looks closer to his size and is freezing.”

    “Oh, Of course. Will you tell me what happened later? It’s not like you to support these things...” His tone becomes more confused and worried.

    You can’t help but smile at his concern, it’s extremely rare for owners to have slaves that genuinely care about them, especially to the degree that yours do for you. Most slave owners have slaves voluntarily, and are legally able to buy up to 300 if they have the space and finances, but they don’t treat them like family like you do, for obvious reasons. You’re just glad that people can’t read minds, you would have been thrown into jail ages ago for these types of mental confessions, if that were the case.

    “Yeah, I’ll definitely be telling you guys later.”

    “Okay,” he sighs supposedly in relief, “I think I’ve heard other owners praising a new collar store that’s nearby, we can try looking around there if you’re interested? I know you don’t really like the owner of the one that we usually go to.” Chanyeol continues, “And should I have D.O. prepare a room while we’re out?”

    “All of that would be amazing. Thank you.” You can’t stop your voice from dripping with the appreciation you have for those two men. Not that you would want to try to, anyway. They deserve all of the praise in the world after what they’ve been through and what they do for you.

    “Anything for you,  _Mistress_.” he assures genuinely, then hangs up.

    You hope you could find something for Kyungsoo, since he now has to do the majority of the house chores himself today, on top of preparing a room.

    Kyungsoo, your other slave, was your 18th birthday gift from your mother. She was convinced you needed a strong, dark-haired slave to “help protect you from your anxieties and fake troubles” and “teach you what a real man should be.” First off, everyone should know by now that that’s not how anxiety works, that it doesn’t just disappear like that. Secondly, he really shouldn’t be dark-haired at all. Kyungsoo is very soft, caring, and a real sweetheart when he wants to be. He’s just very introverted, so he needs time to be alone and recharge from people, which is why he can get rough and cranky when he doesn’t get a break. He also lives by the code “give respect when and where it’s earned”, so to many other people he’s almost a perfect representation of a dark-haired slave.

    In the silence that now coats the area, you hear Jongdae’s teeth chattering in the bitter wind. Without a second thought, you shrug off your jacket and wrap it around his shoulders. He stiffens in response, then tries to return your jacket, to which you refuse.

    “Miss Y/n, what happens if you become ill?” he tries to convince you. You give a small chuckle at the attempt because you can see how he’s fighting to clutch the jacket closer to him after your first refusal.

    “If anyone’s gonna get sick, it’s you. I have a thick shirt and pants, you have practically nothing. Here.”

    You guide his arms into the sleeves and zip up the jacket. You allow your lips to curl upwards slightly as he tries to hide his own smile and the fact he’s desperately cuddling into the newfound warmth.  _He definitely fits as a blonde so far_ , you observe to yourself contentedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Kara Here with the first chapter of my first EXO fanfic! I hope y'all at least somewhat enjoyed it! I’m kind of just testing the waters right now, but if you guys seem to like it then I’ll continue to post chapters (Always on a Monday. Maybe not EVERY Monday, but on A Monday). This is going to be one of the shortest chapters I write, to give you an idea of how long these are gonna be if this becomes an actual thing. Thanks to any of you who read this! I hope you have a lovely night/day! 😊💕


	2. Let's Get Situated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, How anxiety affects me personally, mention of past abuse

    It takes no longer than twenty minutes for Chanyeol to roll up to where you and Jongdae are standing on the sidewalk by the pick-up lane. He gets out of the driver’s seat to open the doors for you both, showing off his pristine outfit consisting of black dress pants, a white dress shirt, and a black bow-tie. You take a brief moment to wonder if he did that on purpose to match the white hybrid car with tinted windows, since it’s raining and he has other colored shirts that won’t become translucent when wet. It seems like something he’d do in this scenario. You hop into the passenger seat when the taller man opens the door, leaving the whole back seat for Jongdae.

    “There should be a red bag back there,” Chanyeol’s welcoming, bass voice melts the silence, “It has warm clothes that you can wear until we get you your own.” Chanyeol informs with a smile into the rear-view mirror.

    Jongdae’s reply is clear, but his nerves are made obvious in his words, “Thank you sir, and mistre- I mean, Miss Y/n. I apologize greatly for that mistake.”

    “No no! You’re totally fine! Call me whatever you like! Just not by my last name, please.”

    A silence that you consider to be extremely awkward follows, but once again, that could be only from your perception. This silence could be totally normal for Chanyeol and Jongdae. You use your peripheral vision to check up on Chanyeol, who is biting his lip. He only bites his lip when he is tense, confused, trying to hold back laughter, or when things are awkward and he doesn’t know how to undo it.

    That means it isn’t just you, and the crippling amount of discomfort in the air is affecting everyone. You don’t know how to fix this! There’s a reason you never leave the house or talk to anyone besides Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, and that reason is because you’re inept at communicating with people. Bring some kind of animal, sure, you could charm it into liking you, but actual people with actual opinions of you?

    Well, yes, you could charm them into liking you as well. You secretly pride yourself in knowing how to drastically change your behavior to gain the validation of others. You’ve had almost all of your life to practice and perfect your techniques.

    The sounds of a bag crinkling and rustling cloth cut your thoughts short. Now all you can focus on is finding somewhere you can safely keep your attention without seeming like a creep who watches her slaves change in the backseat. Although, it’s considered rather normal to do exactly that nowadays, and it disgusts you. You settle on looking straight ahead at the busy roads and intersections and taking in the tall buildings that border them.

    The shuffling continues for a few more minutes, then finally stops. Although, now it’s almost worse than when there was the shifting of clothes cushioning the silence. You make the brave decision of speaking up, but can’t help but feel relieved when Jongdae’s cautious and reserved voice fills the car before you can say anything.

    “What shall I do with the jacket you told me to wear, Miss Y/n?”

    You turn around in your seat to address him face to face and notice his outfit mirrors Chanyeol’s. You’ll have to thank Chanyeol for remembering the custom to coordinate slaves’ clothes.

    “You can just hand it back to me. I’ll probably wear it when we get out.”

    He hands the neatly folded jacket to you with a “Yes Ma’am.”. You respond with a “Thank you.” and smile.

    You turn back around in your seat, but not before you catch his face contorting in confusion. You assume it’s because you thanked him for the jacket because what else could that look be for?  Chanyeol's quietly calls for your attention. You hum an acknowledgement and turn your gaze to the silver-haired driver.

    “We’ll be at the collar store shortly,” he turns his head to you direction a bit, but his focused eyes never peel away from the road ahead, “was there anything else you wanted to get while we were out?” .

    “Uh… Probably just things for Jongdae. Why? Did you need something?”

    “Yea.” he pouts, “A certain black-haired jerk ate the last of my favorite oatmeal this morning.”

    You let out a light laugh that bleeds into your understanding words, “Yea, okay. We can definitely get more for you.” You switch your attention back to Jongdae behind you. “I was planning to get anything you need after we get you home and washed up, but would you mind if we just went ahead and did it now while we’re out?”

    You know first-hand how mentally damaging and scarring it can be for slaves, and you know how much effort and time it will take to break Jongdae’s forced habits. That’s why you’re attempting to chip away at them as soon as possible. The sooner he realizes that you’re a decent human being who cares about him, the better. It will be tough, if he’s anything like Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, but it’s not right that people fear for their lives like this.

    You, out of anyone, should know how a normal slave lives, with the fact that your father is very high in the ranks of Emberline’s Slave Exchange Corp., and how the evil hag that is your step-mother treats the poor people she legally owns. It isn’t right, but there’s nothing you can do. The confused and slightly concerned man under your unfocused gaze saves you from thinking about it too much, thankfully.

    “I wouldn’t mind at all, Miss. Although, the final decision is up to you completely, and I am perfectly content with any conclusion you may reach.” He adds a small head-bow in respect.

    He’s already making more progress than Chanyeol and Kyungsoo did in their first seven months of being with you. He gave his opinion before he returned all control to you.

    Maybe, hopefully, the free part of his spirit isn’t as broken and lost as you originally thought.

    “We’re here.” Chanyeol announced. You give him only a fraction of your attention before giving it all to Jongdae again, so you could brief him on what’s probably going to happen next. You want to try something with him that you didn’t think about trying with your other two slaves until after they had been with you for nearly a year.

    “Okay, please try to stay calm, but I’d like you to pick out your own collar since you’re the one going to be wearing it all the time, and not me. Is that okay?” you offer in one breath.

    He seems pleasantly shocked, which is much better than you were expecting, but he quickly gains control of himself again and nods respectively. You’re almost floored at the fact he agreed to this so easily. It must have shown on your face because Chanyeol is now trying to not smile, and Jongdae looks almost scared.

    “Alright,” you continue quickly, “so, since slaves aren’t actually allowed to choose their own things under normal situations, just look in a certain direction and I’ll ‘lead’ you to that area. Then stare at a collar you like and I’ll try my best to pick the right one up to try it on you. If you like it, blink three times, if you’re unsure, then twice, and no is once. Okay?” He nods once more, not attempting to hide the signs of skepticism and confusion in his body language any longer. “Okay, good. Let’s go inside then. And remember, I’m going to call you Chen while we’re in there, so don’t get confused or freak out when I do.” You add last-minute, remembering the first time you called Kyungsoo “D.O.” in public.

    You give him a large, kind smile in hopes of seeming more welcoming, so he can hopefully feel less afraid about all of this. He simply nods to you yet again, still evidently confused.

    Chanyeol turns the car off, gets out, and opens your door for you with a small bow. You shoot Jongdae a reassuring smile before stepping out and walking towards the entrance of the fancy smaller shop, the other two on your heel. You push back your shoulders, hold your head high, and take larger steps without fully realizing it, despite the fact you want to curl into a ball and hide. You don’t have to stop at the white doors with fogged glass because Chanyeol opens one for you with another small bow without hesitation. You walk in, cringing internally a bit for not being able to even smile a thanks to him for holding it, but it has always been like this, and you sadly don’t see this way of life ending anytime soon.

    You tread onto the red carpet, taking deep breaths in attempts to slow your heart rate; it doesn’t work. You always panic that people will discover your kindness to your slaves, sending you to become a slave yourself because “If you wish to treat your slaves like equals, then we can make you truly equals!”. That’s what the CEO of Emberline's Slave Exchange says, anyway, and you don’t feel like pushing any limits any time soon. It may seem that you don’t like a lot of things about this lifestyle that has been forced onto you, but you have learned to embrace it more than hate it. In what other life could you be living in a small mansion with three free servants, with the only solid income you make on your own being selling random paintings and designs? The answer is not very many.

    “Good Afternoon, Miss!” a young woman with an unhealthy amount of makeup calls out, her voice dripping with artificial positive energy. “How may I help you today?”

    “I’m simply getting a collar for my new slave here. Price won’t be an issue. I may get two more for variety and such, although I haven’t quite decided yet.”

    “In that case, may I see your card, Miss..?”

    “Y/f/n.” With that, the cashier eyes widen for only a moment, before grinning with more genuine pride.

    You don’t usually give out your full name, but you get better service when you do because of who your father is. You aren’t sure of what he does exactly, but he makes more money than he knows what to do with, and you instantly gain more respect from people by being his daughter.

    You stride towards the Mahogany counter with golden borders, suddenly feeling underdressed in your casual clothing while she shows off a form-fitting black dress, long brown hair with blonde highlights pulled back in a neat fishtail braid. She takes the card and scans it through her machine, then turns back to you.

    “I’m sure you know this, but this card allows you to choose any one of those types for free.” she gestures to the dark wall on your right side. It’s covered in golden hooks, a standard, solid-colored, metal collar hanging elegantly from each one, “Although, since you mentioned price wouldn’t be an issue, feel free to choose anything in the store.” her voice changes in the next phrases, showing she is reciting a memorized script. “All models showcased in the store are samples and are impossible to activate. You can hand your chosen collars to me, and I will gather the real ones, activate them with the cards you provide, and gift them to you. Please refrain from taking videos or pictures while inside the store for our privacy, and we hope you find what you’re looking for. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me or any other employees you may see!”

    You give her a single nod and a lopsided smile before turning so Chanyeol and Jongdae are in view. Chanyeol’s already staring intensely to your right while Jongdae has just looked up from the ground. You head off to the right where the nicer, more expensive collars are, making sure you have Chanyeol at least somewhat within your vision so his eyes can subtly lead you. You end up heading towards the wall against the front door, where all the collars are made of a soft yet sturdy fabric. The premium collars.

    You pretend to look at the entire selection, when in actuality you’re only focusing on the location of Chanyeol’s wandering gaze. Finally, he spends a solid few seconds focusing on a certain navy blue one, so you reach up to pick it up. It feels and looks similar to a thick silk, and the inside has a soft faux fur. You put it on Chanyeol, to which he almost immediately blinks once. You take it off and repeat those steps for a few other collars over several minutes. He finally chooses a black one that looks like normal leather on the outside, but is velvety soft on the inside and is rather flexible. You nod decisively, a show for the employee, and loop the collar onto your arm before locking your eyes with Jongdae’s.

    Once he sees he has your attention, he flickers his eyes between your own and to your right. He leads you to the other side of the door where all of the collars are similar to the ones Chanyeol was investigating, but in more feminine colors. The blonde man spends no time to hesitate as he focuses on a silky pink collar down at knee level. You grab and put on him. He rolls his head almost unnoticeably, testing it out, then blinks thrice in approval. You keep your head straight but use your eyes to look over at the cashier’s reaction, and see she has a confused and slightly judgmental look on her face. You bring your focus back to Jongdae, who looks more sheepish now. In return, you curl your lips upward into a closed-mouth smile filled with only kindness understanding. You form a plan in your mind that you will likely regret following through with later.

    “I like this one on you,” you say loud enough for the other woman to hear, yet quiet enough so it’s as if she’s not supposed to, “It suits what I’ve seen from you so far. If anyone questions the color, send them to me.” You force your tone to become more threatening and remain even, “I’ll take care that they understand my reasoning.”

    You would never do anything that could cause conflict with another person. Even saying that out loud has your heart pounding harder than it should, even if it isn’t doing so very hard yet. It’s ridiculous that you’re reacting like this– you know it is– but you can’t help it.

    Apparently you accidentally let your nerves show because Jongdae allows himself to display a small smile as he nods. He then lets his eyes fall on a different collar. You remove the one he has on, then follow his gaze to one that’s a red color, similar to a ruby’s when a light is shined on it. The style resembles Chanyeol’s choice, but with a different soft fabric on the underside. Neither of you see the rectangular, counterfeit diamond on the front until you take it off its hook. You notice that Jongdae seeming a little hesitant, so you mumble an offer disguised as a statement, just in case the cashier somehow hears.

    “I guess I could paint over this to make the jewel a different color, or even find a way to take it off completely…”

    His eyes seem to light up, so you put it on, and after some contemplation, he eventually gives one blink of confirmation. After a few moments of pretending to browse to make sure Jongdae didn’t see anything else he liked, you take the three collars up to the counter, where the woman is waiting.

    “Will this be all today, Lady Y/l/n?” You nod an affirmative, and she rings them up. “Here’s the price, does there seem to be any problems?” You smile a denial and she continues again. “Splendid! Please fill out these three papers while I go back into storage and grab the real things.” A few minutes and three small packets later, she comes back with your collars. She puts them one at a time into a machine against the wall behind the counter, and scans the two slave registration cards for Jongdae and Chanyeol into a different place on the same contraption at the same time. This copies and stores the information from the card onto the collar and activates the internal tracker and personal phone– more like a fancy walkie-talkie, really– that owners can use to contact them. She hands them to you, and you clip the ruby collar onto Jongdae. With a quick and polite thank you to the cashier, you leave the building and get in your car, this time Jongdae opening both doors for you.

    You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and melt into the car seat. You tilt your head back and close your eyes to help block out the rest of the world and calm yourself down.

    While you were preoccupied with focusing on reading Chanyeol’s and Jongdae’s signals, your heart rate has been slowly climbing, and that stunt you pulled with the silk collar didn’t help. Now it's the only thing you can bring yourself to notice. The way it pounds in your chest like small people beating against your ribcage like a gong, trying to squeeze through the gaps between your bones. The way the larger amount of blood rushes through your ears, just slightly out of rhythm with the pounding under your collarbone. It’s not quite deafening like books and movies make it out to be, instead more of a background noise, but it’s the only sound you focus on while trying to steady your pulse.

    The way your body forces your lungs to take faster breaths to accommodate for the fast pace of your heart, and in turn makes you feel slightly dizzy and lightheaded. Yet, it’s unavoidable. If you took slower breaths there wouldn’t be enough oxygen making its way to your head, which would cause the same symptoms you’re facing now. The way your hands shake and how your body becomes noticeably tense because it’s being forced into fight or flight mode, even though there is no tangible threat. The way your mood immediately drops because you wish you weren’t like this. There’s no reason to be in your condition, yet you can’t stop it. You’re completely powerless to this with seemingly no immediate way out and it makes you feel weak, so what do you do to prevent this?

    You stay inside your house as much as possible because if you don’t expose yourself like you just did in the shop, then you never feel weak. You’re completely aware that this is only making your case worse, but you can’t be bothered to put up with the side effects longer than absolutely necessary. The physical attributes aren’t even what bother you, you could deal with those for hours if need be, it’s this feeling of helplessness you hate. This is why you chose to be an artist, so you can work from home where the only people who can tell you how to do your job are yourself and your makeshift family. This way you can avoid that familiar feeling of uselessness when someone tells you you’ve done something not good enough or just plain  _wrong_ , when you gave it all you had.

    “You okay, Y/n?” Chanyeol’s gentle voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You realize the car is now moving down the busy road.

    You answer after a noticeable pause, “Yea. Yea I’m fine now.” You flash a smile to him as if to further prove your point. He never buys it, and this time isn’t an exception.

    “Do you want to go home then? I doubt Jongdae would mind.” You give no time for a response the blonde may or may not have come up with before refusing.

    “No, I’m good. He needs clothes, we need food, and I bet Kyungsoo will need a few things while we’re out anyways. Actually, I should call him right now, shouldn’t I?”

    You pull out your phone and call Kyungsoo to see if he does, in fact, need anything. He picks up almost immediately and simply states that they’re running low on breakfast foods and recites a small list of soaps. Then he informs you that Jongdae’s room is prepared. After a quick thank you and goodbye, you put your phone away and turn to Chanyeol.

    “He says we’re running low on hand soap too.” He nods back.

    Chanyeol smirks suggestively and evilly, “Did he really? Or are you just saying that for your soap feti-”

    You cut him off by you playfully slapping your hand over his mouth. “When will you let that joke  _die_?” You know Jongdae doesn’t have a clue of what’s happening right now, but that’s the nature of inside jokes, is it not?

    Chanyeol lets his eyes flicker over to yours then back to the road so quickly you almost begin to think you imagine it, and before you can process what is happening, he licks your hand. It’s not the quick tongue dart that most people do either. He uses his entire tongue to coat as much of your hand in as much saliva as he can because he knows it will pull some kind of reaction out of you. You do not disappoint him in the slightest.

    “CHANYEOL!!” you screech in utter disgust while his shoulders shake with the force of his laughter.

    You hastily wipe your hand on his pants as some kind of childish revenge, then swat his shoulder as hard as you consider safe since he’s driving. This only makes him laugh harder. Chanyeol may be a man-child a lot of the time, but you trust him with your life. You’re kind of doing exactly that at the moment; trusting him to drive carefully and not kill the three of you while he turns into a giggling mess.

    “Fine then, be that way.” you sass playfully as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “I have a new housemate I need to get to know, anyway!”

    You less than gracefully climb into the backseat behind Chanyeol and next to a very horrified Jongdae and rebuckle yourself in.

    You turn turn to your right where Jongdae is stiff and staring holes into the floor. He swallows, and the movement of his adam’s apple reminds you of the collar he chose and the jewel on it. You remember your promise to him in the shop, and practically throw yourself back across the passenger seat after unbuckling. You always have a set of watercolor and acrylic paints along with a multi-media painting notepad, a sealable water bottle, and an assortment brushes in the glove box just in case you feel inspiration during the few times you leave your house. Kyungsoo always scolded you for doing so since they were “too expensive to just leave in cars”, but now you needed them and they are here. You can’t help but mentally tell Kyungsoo  _I told you so_.

    You grab the acrylic paints, setting spray, and the small set of acrylic brushes, then flop back into the back seat.

    “Hey Jongdae,” He whips his head up to you at the sound of his name, “Come here, I’m gonna take your collar off and paint that obnoxious stone on there.”

    He leans in closer so you can use your “master card” to unlock and remove his collar, then quickly lock the silky pink one on him. Every registered slave has a chip in the back of their neck. If that chip doesn’t sense a collar’s chip near it within a span of a few minutes, it alerts authorities with the slave’s location and ID. This is why all of the enslaved people can’t simply run away and rise up against the wealthy. However, some slaves have somehow found a way around this chip, and it has become an increasing problem for your father and his coworkers in recent days.

    “What color would you like this to be? And do you want a shiny, colored gloss or some glitter on it or just leave it dull?”

    He hesitates before answering, “Would it be alright if you painted it black, and do you have silver gloss?”

    After quickly glancing over to confirm you have some, you reply. “Yep! I have light grey, dark grey, shimmery silver, and metallic silver.” You look over to him, hoping he realized you asked a question rather than just making an observation.

    “May it be glossed with the shimmery silver, then?” he tacks on a shy and slightly awkward smile.

    “Of course!” With that, you get to work.

    Several beats of silence pass before Chanyeol breaks it, once again.

    “So… You like pink, huh?”

    You see in the corner of your eye how Jongdae looks to you as if to ask for permission to speak again, but apparently thinks against it because he continues on without you replying.

    “Yes. I like to think it goes well with my blonde hair, and I like to break societies rules whenever I can.”

    “Oh really? Congrats on doing so. I personally think it’s ridiculous how defensive people can get over that kind of stuff.”

    “I agree,” his tone is more relaxed, but his eyes flicking to you more often than not, “Where I’m from it isn’t as much of a big deal as it is around here, so I never thought that it was strange to like pink as a guy.” He shrugs.

    “Apparently in the past, pink was a boy’s color because it was a more vibrant and lively color, while blue was for girls because it was more ‘tame’ or something. But it all got switched around during the second World War 'cause of Hitler..”

    “Really?”

    “Yep! That’s what I heard when I was still in the camps, anyway. We were comparing the holocaust to our current situation after a ‘training session’ and someone mentioned it.”

    They move on to talk about slave training, comparing and contrasting their experiences. You decide to tone them out, partially to give them privacy, and partially because you don’t have any input on the subject.

    You’ve spent the past few minutes thoroughly cleaning the stone so the paint won’t flake off or peel away as easily. Now, you add a coat of black, letting it dry naturally, because blowing air to make paint dry faster can cause it to crackle and peel off easier, then decide to add another coat after close examination. This coat takes slightly longer to dry, but nothing you can’t stand. You then add a few white and silver highlights to make it look less like it’s been painted over, and more like a natural gem, and leave that to dry. In the meantime, you put the black away and remove the smaller container of glossy, translucent paint. You add a generous coat of the silver onto the gem and decide that’s all that’s needed. The coat’s only thick enough for the pink to show up against the black under the right lighting, and make the whole rectangular stone shiny. When you finally look up from your work you can tell you’re getting close to the mall and praise yourself for the beautiful timing.

    “Welcome back from Art Land!” Chanyeol cheers, “We were just talking about you! How was your trip? Did you make any new friends?”

    You sigh and shake your head with a smile. You’re used to his antics by now, just like he’s used to you sometimes ignoring him in these scenarios.

    “How’s this?” you ask Jongdae, handing the finished product to him for judgement. By the look of his face alone, you can tell that he’s happy with the outcome.

    “This looks fantastic!” he beams, “You didn’t have to put so much effort into something for a lowly slave like me!”

    “That’s the thing, you aren’t just a lowly slave. You’re a human just like the rest of us. A human with valid feelings and emotions, and it’s not fair you were forced to live this life. You’ll learn very quickly that I like to do everything I can to make life more pleasant for you guys because it just isn’t fair.”

    You take a needed breath after saying all of that in nearly one go. You expected Jongdae to be overtaken surprise and confusion yet again, but this time, your words only earn you a look more similar to realization from him.

    “Told ya so.” Chanyeol smiles genuinely as he finds a spot in the mall parking lot.

    “What?” asks you.

    “We’re here!” he ignores you,” I’d personally suggest getting that red collar on him before you leave the car. And that you climb in the front to get out rather than through the back door.” Right back to the normal Chanyeol.

    You do exactly as Chanyeol suggested, telling Jongdae that the blinking and staring thing from the collar shop will be used here as well as any other public place during the process. Chanyeol opens your door, and you step out, thankful that it has finally stopped raining. You stretch from being hunched over, painting the collar the entire time, then walk towards to large shopping complex followed by the two men.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

    Five full bags of clothes, a smart tv, a radio, a small bag of trinkets, and three bags of groceries later, you guys are finally leaving the mall, and it’s now dark outside. The blinding, white lights from the street lamps make the asphalt practically glow under your feet, and your shadow dark and crisp against it. You make it back to your car and have your two companions figure out how to fit everything into the trunk while you sit patiently in the front seat. You usually bring Kyungsoo when shopping for larger things or when buying in bulk, since he’s usually the one who can better organize things like this, and you can’t exactly help the guys pack the car in public.

    You eventually hear the trunk hatch click shut, followed by two doors opening then closing. You apologize for not being able to help, to which the two of them both say it’s fine and to not worry about it. Another few seconds pass, then the drive home begins. You fall asleep in the car almost as soon as Chanyeol turns onto the road, though. All of the unexpected socializing and exercise you’ve done today has ripped all of the energy out of you. 

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

    “...Y/n…” a voice attempts tearing you from your pleasant slumber. It doesn’t really work. You’re exhausted and had a weird dream, though you don’t quite remember what it was.

    “Miss Y/n…wake you up…please...” At first you hated this soft voice for waking you, but now you’re not so sure.

    “You’re going to get cramps if you remain like this, so we should go inside. I would hate for you to be in pain.” You finally hum a response. You suppose you could wake up for someone with a kind voice like that.

    “What about a my voice, Miss Y/n? Are you feeling alright?” You must have said that out loud by accident. You blink your eyes open and finally look up to the voice’s owner.

    “Oh, hello Jongdae.” You stretch in your seat, instantly understanding the severity of the cramps he mentioned and how much worse they’ll get if you stay in the car.

    “Good Morning. Er, good night? I guess?” he stumbles.

    When you ask if he knows what time it is, since the car is now off, therefore no clock, he replies with “it’s time to go inside and eat, according to Kyungsoo.” and helps you out of the vehicle. You walk through the already open front door and are blinded by the chandelier lights inside after being under the moon’s watch for so long. You step onto the golden oak hardwood, taking in the comfort of your very large entryway after practically kicking off your shoes.

    Your small mansion is three stories high, but doesn’t take up as much land as your parents’ place. The first floor consists of the ballroom, ceiling here is twice as high as the rooms in the rest of your home. The walls white and the ceiling with midnight blue designs painted on it, the room completed with a long, fancy table in the center of the room that was really only placed there to make it seem less empty, rather than to serve an actual purpose. The large space would normally be highlighted by the sun coming through the large windows lined with elegant, white curtains, but it’s instead currently lit by the golden chandelier and the just-as-elegant, golden sconces lining the wall.

    On the opposite wall of the front door, there are two rather large and entranceways, the left leading to the kitchen and the right to the living room. The wall to the right of the front door has a closet, the doors to your basement and garage, and a bathroom. The staircase leading to upstairs is just to the right of the front door, and is covered with shaggy, dark grey carpet.

    The second floor is dedicated to the slave rooms, which are all much smaller than the rooms on the third level, and are lined up against the right side of the wall, the exception being two at the end of the hall. The first door by the staircase is supposed to be the Head Slave’s room, but you’ve claimed it as your own. Who wants to climb two sets of stairs and go down a corridor just to go to bed? Not you.

    The third floor is dedicated to the master bedroom and guest bedrooms. Each one of those rooms have their own full bathroom and walk in closets. Although, you’ve locked five of them, leaving only the closest two to the stairs open. You’ve turned those two into the gaming room and the cinema room, which you and the guys use frequently.

    Now that you think about it, this building must have been made with magic of some sort because you’re not entirely sure if the layouts of the rooms on the different floors should be as structurally sound as it is. You’ll have to ask the family member who gifted this place to you.

    Physically shaking your head to rid yourself of the distracting thoughts, you head towards the left opening, to the kitchen.

    The kitchen, which is empty at the moment, has a wonderful contrast between the almost-black blue walls, and the white appliances and cupboards. The grey flooring and grey marble counters aids in forming the contrasting colors into an aesthetically pleasing scene, rather than an overwhelming one. The floor space is large enough for a person to easily move about, while another sits on a stool at the small center bar. You keep heading straight, past the bar and to the next large doorway, hugged by walls with gaps in them to mock windows that are completed with petite pots of different types of succulents and trinkets.

    You find the two men you’re looking for in the dining room, your feet finding no relief from the cold against the cherry hardwood flooring. They’re setting up dinner on the extendable, black table lined with black chairs with cream cushions. The somewhat dull red walls with cream trims, which follow the pattern of contrast you’ve set with these rooms, have some paintings you’ve given up trying to sell framed in black.

    “Good to see you again Y/n,” Kyungsoo greets with a smile, “I think this is the longest you’ve been out in one sitting without the force of your mother. How was it?”

    “It wasn’t  _all_  too bad, actually.” You answer slightly distracted because of the smell of your favorite dinner dish. Kyungsoo must have noticed your reaction, as always, because he’s quick to explain.

    “With everything you had to do unexpectedly today, especially after being in a poor mood earlier, I guessed that you might appreciate this. Chanyeol and Jongdae also told me that you haven’t eaten since breakfast, so you should eat then go and get some rest. You look like you need it.”

    You give him a small hug and a thank you, then sit down to serve yourself to some of his delectable food. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo chuckle at the noise you make once the food hits your mouth.

    “This turned out even better than usual this time! Probably because I wasn’t here to meddle with your cooking.” you give a light chuckle, then shove more of your meal into your mouth.

    “You’re a bigger help than you may think, I’ve almost gotten used to someone helping with the smaller tasks in the process of cooking.”

    “Miss Y/n helps with cooking? Why would the owner feel the need to help with something as trivial as cooking?” Jongdae’s utterly confused voice pops up in the conversation.

    Chanyeol’s cheery one comes next, “She’s just the best, isn’t she? She helps with cleaning and cooking and organizing and gardening. I personally think she’s the best gardener out of the three of us, actually!”

    At this point, everyone has sat down and are eating their own helpings of food.

    “She’s like the sister I’ve never had the chance of meeting. She’s very kind and understanding towards us, goes out of her way to try to make us more comfortable.” Kyungsoo says after swallowing.

    You realize that they are now talking about you as if you weren’t right there, but you’re completely used to the treatment from your parents and “friends”. Besides, you know they don’t mean it in a disrespectful manner like the others do.

    “Kind of like how she said those things in the collar shop so the cashier wouldn’t question your collar choice, even if she didn’t know it was your choice. Plus those few times in the mall. When she first found me I was so sure it was all an act to get her to put my trust in her so she could ruin me like my last owners did. But nope! She’s always like this! And we love her for it. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for her, actually.”

    “Found you?” Jongdae cautiously asks Chanyeol, “Were you not bought?”

    That one line changes the light atmosphere into a heavy and almost tense one. Once what felt like an eternity passed in silence, but was likely only a few seconds, you take the responsibility of finally answering Jongdae, who is now obviously regretting asking that question.

    “You’re the first slave I’ve actually bought, Jongdae. I found Chanyeol on the streets and Kyungsoo was given to me as a gift from my stepmother.” You look up from your plate and are met with three sets of brown eyes completely focused on you. The ones to your right are wide with an emotion similar to surprise or shock, the ones ahead are clouded with sadness and reflection, and the ones to your left seem full of disbelief and...  _anger?_

    “You didn’t just ‘ _find me on the streets_ ’!” Chanyeol only slightly raises his voice, but his stern tone is enough to get people’s attention. He turns to Jongdae in front of him sharply, causing the blonde to flinch noticeably. “Y/n didn’t just ‘find me on the streets’. She was walking by herself, and went to throw away a piece of trash when she found me behind the alley dumpster she used, beaten almost to death by my previous owner. She could have kept on walking. I still had a collar on so she  _knew_  I was a slave. She could’ve. It would have been much easier to just pretend to not see me. But she didn’t. She took it upon herself to make sure I was alive, forced that broken collar off my neck, and dragged me all the way to her home where she registered me as her own slave and took me under her care without a second thought so I wouldn’t be sent off to be put down like a dog or something.” His voice drops to only a whisper, “And I still gave you both a load of shit for months after everything you did.”

    “Chanyeol,” you plead, “how many times do we have to tell you that it’s fine. You didn’t know any better and you couldn’t help it. Besides, it’s all in the past now. You won’t go anywhere near someone like that again if I can help it.”

    He responds by sighing out a weak “yeah” and taking a nibble of his food. Jongdae’s stunned into silence.

    “You came around quicker than I did though.” Kyungsoo tries comforting, his tone much lighter than the mood set at the table. He calmly turns to address Jongdae. “As Y/n mentioned before, I was given to her as an eighteenth birthday gift by her stepmother. It was believed by her family that she needed something to represent a ‘strong, dominant man’ to get rid of her anxieties, among other…” he cringes, “ _reasons_. I was briefed on how to act around Y/n, and what to do in certain scenarios. Yet those scenarios ended up never happening. She was completely different than what I was told, and we were too awkward to even properly speak with each other for the first  _year_  of my residence here because neither of us had a clue of what to do or how to act around each other, since it was obvious I was strictly trained and broken down to the life of slavery, and she wasn’t interested in treating me like a slave at all.” 

    He allows a slight pause to gather his thoughts before continuing. “I think it’s thanks to Y/n bringing Chanyeol home that day that I began opening up, actually.” At this, you and Chanyeol snap your gazes to the black-haired man, who smiles gently at what you could guess is fond memories. “If you hadn’t brought him home, I wouldn’t have seen your true personality start to show, or believe that what I  _had_  seen of you was real. I would probably still be very stiff and formal around you. Plus, it would be rather boring without this guy’s attempts at comedy and teasing.” he nudges Chanyeol with his fist.

    A few chuckles finally fill the air, making it breathable again. Chanyeol eventually speaks up, his voice getting its cheer back already.

    “Yea, you guys would probably drown in negativity without at least one optimist in the group.” He laughs a genuine laugh at his own comment, which causes everyone to follow along.

    The four of your take your time to finish dinner in the newfound comfortable silence. You finish around the same time that Jongdae does, who worryingly didn’t eat very much. He picks up both his own and your dishes with a polite smile. You return your own bright smile to him in thanks, before bringing them to the kitchen. Less than a minute later, Kyungsoo finishes and follows Jongdae’s path to the kitchen with all of the leftovers held determinedly in his arms, leaving only you and Chanyeol at the table. You stand to bid everyone goodnight so you can go to bed, but Chanyeol stops you.

    “Hey.”

    “Yea?”

    “Thank you, so  _so_  much for bringing me home that night. I don’t know where I’d be without you, honestly. I owe you my life a hundred times over.”

   “It’s no problem, really,” you reassure him for the umpteenth time, “I was doing what I believed was right, and was awarded with an amazing brother like you.”

    You hold your arms out slightly to offer the hug Chanyeol looks like he needs, and he gladly accepts. It doesn’t last very long in order to avoid awkward lingering. After you release each other, you say your goodnight to him and head to the kitchen to find that Kyungsoo has just finished with the dishes. You place your arm around him in a quick side-hug, thanking him for putting up with you for almost six years now. He briefly returns the gesture and thanks you for doing the same for him. You move on to Jongdae.

    He’s making himself seem smaller and is looking down at the grey tile beneath his feet while playing with his fingers nervously. You gently pick up his hands and raise them slightly. When he doesn’t lift his head, you drop one of his hands and gently lift it yourself. You replace your hand on his again and speak softly to him, mainly because of the exhaustion beginning to fog your head.

    “We don’t really know each other yet, and that’s fine for now, but I hope you’ll let me get to know you just like Kyungsoo and Chanyeol have. And not the slave persona you have now. The real you, but there’s really no rush at all. In the meantime, I’ll let you get to know the real me, let you decide if I’m worthy of that.” You let a small smile form on your face. He doesn’t say anything, but nods slowly instead, never moving his eyes from yours. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Jongdae.”

    “Goodnight, Miss Y/n.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaahhh I spent so much time just rewording things over and over again because I’m a slight perfectionist. X’D I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!


	3. Surprise Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Verbal Fight, Brief mentions of past abuse/rape, minor panic attack based off of my own

    Usually when you first wake up you feel like death, like most people would, but this morning you awaken feeling strangely refreshed, and you aren’t complaining in the slightest. You head downstairs after changing into decent pajamas, and you’re oh-so-thankful you decided to go against your mother and get these heavenly carpets in the hallways and stairs. When you finally make it to the ballroom, you hear three familiar voices coming from the living area, so, naturally, that’s where you begin walking to. You stop right next to the large entranceway when you hear your name coming from Kyungsoo, then hide behind the wall, curious of what they’re talking about.

    “So she’s always like she was last night then? That isn’t an act at all?” Jongdae’s voice, full of doubt.

    “Yup!” Chanyeol, “She honestly treats us like family. She even called me an amazing brother just last night!”

    “Are you sure that wasn’t just out of pity from your little rant?” Kyungsoo teases, obviously meaning no offense.

    “Oh yeah? When’s the last time she called  _you_  her brother? Hmm?” Chanyeol teases the black-haired man back.

    “It’s hard to believe Miss Y/n is always like that, but it must be true if you’re openly bickering about something as personal as this.”

    “Personal?” the original two slaves blurt at the same time.

    “Yes, bickering about who is emotionally closer to your master. That would be considered personal, would it not?”

    “So  _this_  is where you’re getting tripped up,” you assume Chanyeol moves as he says this because you hear the slight creak of your couch, “She’s not exactly our master.”

    “What doe-”

    “That wasn’t the best way to word it, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo cuts Jongdae off, “She  _is_  our owner, she simply doesn’t acts like it when in the privacy of our home because she never really wanted to be one in the first place.”

    You can almost feel the confusion radiating off of Jongdae, and he hasn’t even said anything yet. After a noticeable pause, he finally speaks up.

    “If she never wanted to be a slave owner, then wouldn’t she be more cruel to us since she didn’t want the responsibility of keeping slaves?”

    Chanyeol is quick to correct him, “No no no, she didn’t want to be a slave owner because she doesn’t exactly endorse the idea of slavery.”

   “That doesn’t make sense, though. Why would she  _not_  want slavery? Why to be nice to us? It’s been proven time and time again that we only exist to be used by owners, and that owners can and will toss us out like trash if we mess something up. Would it not be in her best interest as someone of her status to take advantage of-”

    “No.” You deny sternly, finding the courage to step out of your hiding place. You must have been sneakier than you thought while hiding because all three men jump and whip their heads to your direction with wide eyes. “No, that is not why you exist. You’re just as much of a person as I am, which means you exist for whatever reason you find worthy. And I, for one, don’t believe that anyone’s meaning of life should just be to serve others without getting anything in return. People should at least get a sense of happiness or accomplishment from doing things, and from what I’ve experienced, slaves don’t get either.” You sigh, then make your tone more gentle. “I don’t like acting like an owner because you are people, not belongings or pets or anything like that. You’re living, breathing people with emotions. You should get treated like one. I don’t know why this is such a hard concept for people to understand.” you mumble the last part, only meaning it for yourself.

     You don’t fully realize your eyes wandered to the ground until you have to lift them up to see the guys’ reactions. Jongdae seems to be taken aback, while Kyungsoo and Chanyeol simply sit on the couch closest to you with proud, closed-mouthed smiles.

    You suddenly become extremely aware of the way the light grey carpet in the living area rubs against your feet, and how the two smiling men have to turn awkwardly on the white couch because it’s facing away from the doorway you’ve planted yourself in. You step into the room all the way, slightly shrinking from embarrassment because by stepping out and correcting Jongdae like that, you admitted to eavesdropping on their conversation. You end up standing by the glass coffee table between the couches and facing the modern, silver fireplace that’s on the wall to the right of the entryway.

    You start feeling guilty for some reason, they were only having a little chat about you, that doesn’t mean you had to interrupt them by getting defensive. Before you can apologize, though, Kyungsoo turns his attention to Jongdae and breaks the silence.

    “See? We told you she’s not like any owner you’ve heard of before.”

    “I know it seems too good to be true in this day and age,” Chanyeol jumps in, “especially considering that her father’s part of the roundtable of ESE, but she’s standing right there. She’s living proof that not everyone’s an asshole like we were taught all our lives.” Jongdae only silently drops his eyes to his feet. “Now,” Chanyeol declares as he stands up abruptly, “I’m getting hungry and feel like having a sandwich. Anyone else want to make breakfast with me?”

    Of course Chanyeol is making a sandwich for breakfast of all things, even though you just bought groceries yesterday.

    Kyungsoo gets up to meet Chanyeol, who is now standing by the closed dining room door, which is opposite of the fireplace. “I’ll help you Chanyeol. We should eat a real breakfast, and I need the pressure cooker for the dinner I have planned tonight anyway, and I don’t trust you with it anymore.”

    “It was one time! Doesn’t this new one lock its lid until it’s safe to open anyways?” You chuckle at the memory from over a year ago.

    “The last one did too, but you still found a way to make it explode. And I’m sure that Y/n does not want to deal with replacing another chunk of the ceiling. Besides…” their voices become too muffled to understand any more of their conversation as they travel to the kitchen.

    You turn to Jongdae with a friendly smile you use for people you don’t know well yet.

    “Has one of the other two given you a tour of the place yet?”

    He shifts a bit in his spot, “They showed me the third floor and the basement, but it was too wet and cold to go outside earlier.”

    “Would you like to go outside then, since it’s warmed up? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” That seems to have made him relax.

    “Yes, please, I would love to see outside. Thank you for offering.”

    “My pleasure.”

    You gesture him to follow you to glass doors to the sunroom, which is opposite of the living area’s main entrance. The flooring in this room is a dark hardwood, and all of the outer walls are windows with screens, so you can enjoy the weather without letting in bugs if you so choose. All of the furniture, which looks like it all came from the 60s (it’s the original furniture that came with the place, and you’re too lazy and busy to go out and buy new furniture), are getting dirty from being a pastel yellow from being in what could arguably be considered outside. You make a mental note to buy new furniture next time you’re near a home store as you open the outer door and walk down the three steps onto the ground. You briefly turn around to check if he’s still following you, and are happy to see that he’s taking in your backyard in awe.

    Every single flower you find pretty, or at least the ones that grow in this climate, cover any area that isn’t a stone path for many yards. Greens, purples, blues, pinks, reds; any color can probably be found out here if you look hard enough. You walk along the path next to Jongdae comfortably, taking in his amazed expressions. There are smaller paths, ones that can only fit one person, that branch off of the main ones, providing extra ways to show off the decorative plants sectioned out with one-foot-tall, rot iron fencing. Finally, after several minutes of walking, you come to the end of the garden and the beginning of the fields.

    You own approximately 25 acres of nothing but wild fields and a few patches of trees, since the rest of the 38 acres of land you own is taken up by your garden, house, or is acting as a large barrier for privacy from the road and neighbors. All of your property has been bordered with ten-foot rot iron fencing, the tops spikey and the bars close together to keep intruders out. Sadly, it also keeps most animals out as well, which would be a beautiful sight to see in your garden.

    The main stone path you’ve been following ends at a grand gazebo in your favorite colors that could comfortably fit ten people. Out several yards into the fields are much smaller ones in black. One is made of metal and the other is painted wood, the designs of the two are much different because of the difference in building materials, and because they were made for two different people. You notice Jongdae looking at them curiously, so you decide to explain why they exist.

    “This gazebo we’re standing in was a gift from the relative that gave me this property. I built those other two for Chanyeol and Kyungsoo after we became close to each other. They described what they wanted and I designed them the best I could. It just so happens that both of their favorite colors are black.” You pause to configure a way to say your next words correctly, “I can eventually build one for you too, if you’d like. It’d be nice to have something other than black out in the fields.”

    When he doesn’t respond, you look over at him to see he’s gently smiling towards the two smaller gazebos, seemingly lost in thought as he leans some of his weight on the railing. His blonde hair reflects off of the midday sun, the same light that is making his pupils shrink so you can easily see how his usually dark eyes glow and shine. You study the way shadows frame one side of his face perfectly when he turns his head towards you in preparation to speak. He has the perfect face for drawing an interesting portrait, especially in this lighting. If only you had a camera to take a photo for later...

    “You really do care about them, Miss Y/n. I apologize for doubting your kindness.”

    “It’s not just them I care about, you know. I care about you too, or else I probably wouldn’t have dragged you up to my balcony yesterday. I also wouldn’t have offered to make you a gazebo.” you exhale in amusement at the last comment you made.

    He turns his head back toward the fields, resuming his previous position. “Do you have any other gazebos on your property?”

    “Not yet, no.” you copy Jongdae’s pose and follow his gaze, “My step-mother has been demanding for one to be built her for years, but I always refuse.”

    “May I ask why?”

    You sigh almost forlornly. “I build these so the memory of everyone I love can remain here as long as the property isn’t destroyed, so that every time I look out a window where I can see them, I’m reminded of those people... I build these because, in this corrupted world, anything can happen, and I don’t know when the last day I’ll see Kyungsoo and Chanyeol will be. And my step-parents are the reason for that.”

    “Oh...”

    “Besides, I can look literally anywhere and find traces of them. My parents don’t need their own, personal reminders on my property.”

    He nods thoughtfully.

    The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. You have no clue how long you’ve spent out in the gazebo, but it must have been a long while because the silence is broken with footsteps.

    “There you guys are!” a cheerful deep voice calls out. You and Jongdae turn around, finding Chanyeol lightly jogging towards you on the path. “We were looking for you, breakfast is done, and probably cold at this point. C’mon!” He waves at both of you, beckoning you to follow him as he turns and heads back to the house at the same pace as before.

    “Why didn’t you just call me!?” you shout after him. It’s regulation to have your slave walkie-talkie thing (you never care to remember the names of things you rarely use) on you at all times.

    His response is turning around to walk backwards, exaggerating a shrug, then turning back to continue on his way.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

    A few hours have passed and all four of you are in the video game room on the third floor playing one of your favorite multiplayer games. Jongdae is always losing horribly– he’s never really played on electronics before– and Chanyeol finds it hilarious as you and Kyungsoo attempt to teach him the fundamentals.

    A pleasant chime rings, signalling that someone is at your front gate, during the middle of an important section in the game, so the game gets paused for Kyungsoo while he goes downstairs to answer the intercom. You assume it’s the cute animal figurine you ordered last week, so you completely trust him to take care of the package for you. Although, he returns much too soon and without a box, and the aura surrounding him is completely different. His head low, back straight, feet together, and his hands linked behind him. You understand why when you process his next words.

    “M’lady, your stepmother has arrived on the property and wishes to speak to you. Shall I allow her in the manor?” He looks up at you with only his eyes in a silent ‘good luck’.

    You curse internally, but only outwardly cringe. This is  _not_  what you had in mind for today. At the same time, however, you can’t refuse to let her in. She’ll then become curious of why, since you haven’t seen her or your father in nearly a year, despite living only twenty minutes away. You let out a long groan and stand up from the comfortable yet ugly brown couch, that strangely matches the distasteful green walls that you always forget to buy the supplies to repaint it.

    “I’ll go downstairs and see what she wants. Can you guys help get Jongdae set up? I don’t think I went over my usual dress code for you guys.” You stand to rush out of the room to get changed into something nicer than pajamas.

    A low voice calls out “Will Do.” as you jog down the hallway to your room. You put on a nice dress and matching shoes, then dart down the stairs, all the while trying to do something with the mess on your head. You’ve gotten to the middle of your small ballroom area when you hear a familiar, feminine voice coming from the living area. Kyungsoo must have let her in while you were changing. That was a good call on his part to keep her from waiting. You take a deep breath, fix your posture, put on the best smile you can manage while in her presence, and walk into the carpeted room.

    “Y/n! Darling!” the same voice, which belongs to your stepmother, almost screeches.

    “Mother! What a pleasant surprise!” you lie as you walk up and give her a light and very brief hug. “What brings you here this fine day?”

    “Your father was reviewing the receipts for the slave exchange yesterday, you know with his job and all, and he saw your name on one of the sheets! I just had to come over to congratulate you on your first official slave purchase! I always told you that whole ‘not wanting many slaves’ thing was simply a phase, and look at you now, finally growing up and maturing.”

    She seems genuinely happy about this and it almost makes you sick. People shouldn’t be used. You think and say it time and time again, but never to her or in public. Horrible things would happen, especially considering who your father is. It wouldn’t only cause you to be thrown into the Outskirts where the slave camps are, it would ruin your entire family’s reputation.

    “Thank you, mother. I was feeling bored with the same slaves as years ago, so I decided to get a new one. Maybe you were right after all.”  _Lies_.

    “I brought my newest slave as well simply because I can’t judge your new slave without giving you the chance to judge mine! I wasn’t expecting much from Suho here, but he’s proving to be more useful than I originally thought.”

    You turn your attention to the brown-haired slave for only a moment before smiling back to the old hag in front of you.

    “He seems well put together, considering.”

    “Oh, of course! I’ve been teaching him and punishing him like I do the others.” You cringe internally at the thought of her punishments. It’s practically torture, what this woman does to her slaves. “He makes many more mistakes compared to my other slaves, but I expected this and he is learning faster than many others I’ve trained in my time. He is very quick to beg for forgiveness and ask how he can repay for the mistakes he made, which I always allow as you know.” She smirked then chuckled in a way anyone with a heart would consider evil.

   You’re aware of how she lets her slaves “repay for their mistakes”, and you turn your gaze over to the most-likely-traumatized slave standing at attention behind the couch, mentally sending him your pity. It’s all you can offer to him at the moment. You turn back to you mother who has begun talking again.

    “Where are your slaves? D.O. came and answered the door, so I know they’re here.”

    You quickly make an excuse, “I sent them upstairs because I assumed you came alone, and I was expecting you to want to have a private talk with me. I can go get them if you’d like.”

    “Oh, just send Suho up there! I wouldn’t mind a quick word alone with you.”

    Why did you mention talking in private? You make up another excuse off the top of your head because it worked  _so well_  last time.

    “I’ve trained them to listen to only my voice, so they will not respond to a message given by anyone but me directly.”

    That’s actually not a complete lie. Around three and a half years ago, Kyungsoo was almost kidnapped by a man when he claimed to hold a message from you. If you hadn’t of sent Chanyeol with him that day, you would have lost one of your best friends. Your mother can’t know that, though, so you spill out more lies that she’ll like to hear, instead.

    “Why waste money on attempting to find a good replacement if one gets taken using such a cheap trick, when I can simply keep track of the acceptable ones I have now.”

    “Oh… I suppose if you don’t have many slaves then that wouldn’t be a major problem.” It’s obvious she’s judging you, and that this is going to be yet another thing about you she’s going to “passively” try to change.

    You nod and glide out of the living area and across the ballroom, stepping calmly onto the stairs. Once you’re out of her sight, you sprint up them as fast as your, admittedly short, high heels allow you to. You hear mumbling coming from behind Jongdae’s door, third one on the right, as you pass it. You gingerly knock and let them know it’s you knocking, to which they all respond with a “come in”. You do just that.

    All 3 men are dressed to match Kyungsoo (a semi-casual shirt and black jeans) from when he opened the door earlier, so it doesn’t look as suspicious. They fall silent and give their attention to you, waiting to hear why she’s here. You waste no time in getting to the point so you don’t delay that impatient woman any longer than absolutely needed.

    “My father saw my name on the receipts from yesterday’s expo and showed her. She came over to see how well ‘ _Chen_ ’ here performs.” You gesture to Jongdae briefly when you exaggerate his slave name, reminding more yourself than the blonde of it. Kyungsoo breaks the short silence.

    “So she’s not leaving anytime soon…?”

    “I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed until well after dinner.”

    “Damn it…” Chanyeol huffs, “I’m guessing she’s waiting for us? For him?” He points his thumb in Jongdae’s direction, and you nod an affirmative.

    You then exit the room and somehow make it down the stairs without stumbling at all, your three slaves a few steps behind you. You return to your living area and are met with your mother silently judging every aspect of the room with a slight scowl. She’ll probably pick on you for having white couches, which are significantly easier to stain than the maroon ones at her place. It’s the only color that would match the white walls and ceiling and pastel blue carpets, though! Perfectly complimenting the glass coffee table and the light-grey, cobblestone fireplace.

    “This is Chen.” you announce, grabbing your stepmother’s attention. The blonde slave understands the unspoken command perfectly and places himself to the left and slightly behind you. “He’s still getting used to my property and rules, and is new to being a slave in general, so I’ve been giving more orders to D.O. and Chanyeol so he can watch them. I can’t be bothered to teach him what I expect myself, really. He is doing well, considering, if I do say so myself.”

    “Aww, Honey!” she has you trapped in a tight hug in an instant, “You’re so kind to him!  _I_  don’t even do that for my new slaves! You have such a pure heart,” she lowers her voice to a grumble, probably hoping that you wouldn’t hear it, “even if it  _was_  out of laziness…” You did. “It’s so kind of you to let him get used to his surroundings for a day before getting him to do real work,! No matter how truly unnecessary it is.”

    You don’t want to talk about this anymore, so you decide to not-so-smoothly change the subject completely.

    “You usually call me before coming over?”

    “Ah, yes. But I wanted this visit to be a surprise so I can see how you and your house look on an average day.” You opt to nod in acknowledgement rather than actually speak. “Yes, it could be better. Your dressing habits need some work, although you are simply lounging in the house, I suppose...”

    You stop listening at this point because, honestly, who would want to listen to someone pick out every flaw in their lifestyle? Not many, that’s for sure, and especially not you. You already have important things to worry about, like what color should you finally change the game room’s horrifyingly ugly walls to? You simply nod when she pauses for breaths in attempts to show you are listening, when it’s actually quite the opposite. Although, one comment sticks out to you and you already have a mild argument for it.

    “...and those couches. Why white? And why that design? They’re hideous!”

    You knew she would hate the couches.

    “Have you not seen the rest of the room, mother? No other color would look quite right.”

    That’s it. That’s your entire argument. It won’t actually do anything to sway her opinion, but she now at least knows you openly disagree with her on that one thing. Although, some part of you realizes that white couches  _would_  be a horrible idea if there were animals or kids around, but there isn’t, so it doesn’t matter.

    “White is a mistake, Y/n! Especially on furniture! Furniture is meant to be dark! Not light or colorful! It throws everything off and they get messy too easily!”

    “You’re going to hate what I did with the kitchen and sunroom then.” you purposefully grumble loud enough for her to hear.

    “Oh my word! What atrocities have you turned those rooms into?! Stay here, Suho, while I investigate my daughters poor decisions.”

    With that she stormed off through the sky blue door that leads to the dining area. You don’t miss her shocked and offended gasp before the door shuts behind her, either. No doubt from the fact she can see complimenting reds, creams, and blacks at the same time as contrasting blues, whites, blacks, and greys. You know it doesn’t clash together very well, but they look amazing on their own, and it accentuates the fact they are different rooms.

    You sigh and give Jongdae the most apologetic look you can muster up while Suho is looking to the ground. You order “D.O.” and Chanyeol to do what they usually do when company is over and help “Chen” figure things out, fully aware that part of Suho’s reason of being here could be to tell your mother of any suspicious activity from you. Calling your slaves by their birth names is considered suspicious, which is why you give nicknames– except when you wanted to give Chanyeol one years ago, he said “ _I would rather be sliced up and burned than to have another code name. I have bad memories with them._ ”, so that was that–. You watch as all three leave the room with a respectful bow, and a sigh escapes you once more before following your mother’s steps to the kitchen.

    The next two hours are spent following your mother around the house as she pulls apart each room and labels everything in sight as disgusting and/or mismatched. The last stop is the sunroom, and she seems to be at a loss for words. Everything in this room is still dusty and coated with pollen that slipped through gaps in the windows that  _still_  need to be properly sealed. That, and your mother’s least favorite color is yellow, and she has horrible allergies. That is actually a part of the reason why you spent the time to create such a large garden, even if you’ll never admit it out loud. You even have an extremely effective (and expensive) allergy medication, just in case something serious happens.

    “There are no words for this room… No. Words.” is all she said before sharply turning around and practically stomping back into the kitchen for her own allergy pills. You follow her, and are about to offer a glass of wine to the judgmental woman to help calm her down when D.O. strides in and bows as he speaks.

    “M’lady, it is nearly five o’clock. Would you like me to begin preparing dinner?”

    “Yes please. Any suggestions mother? He’s an excellent cook, as you should know by now.” You say, noticing with disappointment that he put the pressure cooker away. She proceeds to name off a very fancy vegan dish, most likely to test his skills and to be an insufferable, pretentious ass. You turn back to D.O. “I give you permission to use my counter tablet to look up the recipe, and I will allow you to call Chanyeol to come and help if you so wish.”

    “Thank you, M’lady.”

    He stands up straight and promptly leaves the room in search of his cooking companion. You leave soon after, following your stepmother’s path as goes into the living area to almost aggressively sits herself on the couch facing away from the sunroom.

    “Be a dear and get Ching, will you?”

    “His name is Chen.” At her deadly, side-eye glare, you change your response. “Right away, ma’am” You turn to step out of the room, but her harsh voice stops you.

    “No. You should be able to call  _it_  using the STO450.”

    You reluctantly take out your  _STD420_  and dial the pin number correlated to Chen’s collar. He responds perfectly with a “You called for me, M’lady?”, and you order him to come to the living room. He enters a few minutes later, obviously racked with nerves, and bows deeply at the wide entranceway.

    “You called for my presence, M’lady?” His voice is much quieter than usual, which is saying something. Although, there is a minuscule difference about him, and you don’t know what it is.

    You can just  _tell_  he isn’t quite the same terrified slave you rescued yesterday, even as he bows deeply and nervously in front of you.

    “You may rise.” He follows your instruction. “My mother and I simply want you and Suho to follow us around as we chat.” You see the slight concern that flashes on his face before he skillfully clears it of any emotions.

    “As you wish, M’lady.”

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

    You and your stepmother are sitting at your table eating dinner, and she apparently approves of Kyungsoo’s work seeing as she’s now finishing her second helping.

    The entire time you were waiting for dinner to be done, your mother was making you order Chen to do pointless things, like change light bulbs that were perfectly fine and unfolding and refolding certain clothes and sheets. You even sat with her as she intensely watched him and Suho clean a spare room she destroyed, and her only excuse was “all in the name of practice, my dear”. It got to a point where she was just ordering him around and you only gave saddened looks as forms of apologies to the stiff man.

    At this point in time, though, all four men stand at attention against the wall opposite of the wooden door (it’s painted black on this side, rather than pale blue), waiting to be given yet another order.

    “The meal was quite lovely, Y/n.” your stepmother’s high-pitched voice suddenly announced.

    “I completely agree.”

    You give Kyungsoo and Chanyeol a grateful look while the other woman in the room is briefly preoccupied with brushing off her dress, knowing they’ll see it in their peripherals. As you look towards your stepmother again, you meet Suho’s eye so briefly, you think you imagine it, since slaves aren’t allowed to “look aimlessly around, and must keep their eyes focused ahead of them”. You do a double-take and see him looking directly at you with an almost unnoticeable hint of a smile. You meet the old woman’s curious stare as you stand up yourself.

    “I was simply admiring his posture. You taught him well.” you half-ass a lie, and you’ll never know if she bought it or not.

    “Darling.”

    “Yes, mother?” You’re so close to just kicking her out now, but you somehow manage to hold back, mostly out of what little respect you have left. She is married to most of your paycheck, after all.

    “I want a painting of tonight’s sunset as a gift for coming over to see you after so long.”

    “Yes, Mother.” you grit out behind a smile. You’re rapidly growing tired of being around such an overwhelmingly self-centered person and can no longer hold back traces of your irritations. “Chen, Chanyeol? Clean this up. D.O., come with me and help carry my painting supplies downstairs.”

    You almost ask them to do these things rather than ordering them to, a mistake that can possibly ruin your life if the bitch in front of you heard it. You curtly turn and stride out of the room, then stomp up to the third floor after checking to see if Kyungsoo was following behind you. You go down the wide hallways and enter your art room.

    You can’t remember what color the walls in this room were, but it must have been a horrendous color or too plain because every inch of them are now covered with art pieces. Some are watercolor, some acrylic, both large and small papers and canvases. There are also sketches done in pen or pencil littered around, along with charcoal ones. The art even covers the large windows, making the room dark without the use of curtains, which you would have otherwise used, so the bright, white light directly above your art table was the only source of light, effectively eliminating most shadows caused by your hands while working on art pieces.

    You walk across the messy, most likely stained, white tiles and pick up your easel, paint palette, and a 14 by 20 inch canvas and hand them to Kyungsoo with a thankful smile. You grab any colors and brushes you may need for tonight’s sunset, hesitating to leave. You take one last look at what you consider to be your safe haven with a sigh.

    “It’s almost over, Y/n. She’ll leave as soon as you finish this painting, then we can make a quick dessert and relax with a movie.”

    “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

    You turn back around, take in a deep breath, and return to the harsh reality.

    When you finally make it downstairs, you order D.O. to give the stuff to Chen so he can be the one to follow you outside, at your mother’s request of course. If it were up to you, you would have given the poor man a break long ago. You shuffle through the sunroom and out the backdoor while your mother proudly strides onto the path of stone, which is dimly lit with simple garden lights that are staked into the ground, with Suho behind her. The four of you eventually make it to your large gazebo and you arrange your painting gear towards the sun that isn’t quite setting yet.

    You’ve painted enough sunsets is this exact spot to know about what tonight’s will look like. You preemptively place the circle of yellow, centered a third the way up the canvas, then blend some yellow-orange around it. From there you blend it into a very pale orange, then that to a light grey, then light blue, and that to dark blue. Now that the sun is actually setting, you use the clouds in front of you as a reference you add light grey blobs as the base for the clouds. This is when your mother jumps in with her usual snobbish tone.

    “How many times must I have to ask until you build a gazebo in my name?”

    “There isn’t enough times because it won’t happen. You know I build those for personal reasons.” You finish adding basic shading to the blobs, now you just need gold and pink highlights around the edges.

    “Oh? Am I not a considered a reason personal enough!? I am your mother!”

    “Stepmother.” you correct her sternly. You’re losing what little patience you have left. She grunts in annoyance.

    “It’s not like you  _knew_  your real mother! She fucking abandoned you when you were an infant! And yet you have no problem calling your illegitimate father just ‘Father’ and not ‘Stepfather’! Where is my respect!? Huh!?” You have to stop with the highlights, deciding that your slightly shaking hands could do well in making the black silhouettes of distant trees instead.

    “You know I firmly believe in giving respect only when it’s gained. And please stop with the profanity, you know I dislike it.”

    You actually couldn’t care less if other people swear, but you were raised to hate it, so you keep up the act around your parents just in case. She ignores your second statement, anyway, and continues with her idiotic rage.

     “Have I not fucking gained it!? I could have sent you to the Outskirts that night I found you on our doorstep. But I didn’t! You should be fucking thankful!”

    “All of this over a gazebo…” you grumble, finishing the tree line and hurrying with the grass of the fields at the bottom of the painting.

    “This isn’t about a god damned gazebo in a fucking field. This is about my title in the household-” You cut her off right there, growing increasingly agitated with her.

    “Accept you’re in  _my_  household, Nylah.” You never use your stepmother’s first name, for obvious reasons, but this time it slipped out.

    “How  _dare_  you use my first name, child!”

    You cut her off as calmly as possible before she can continue, never letting your focus stray from the canvas to somehow prove how completely uninterested you are in having this argument.

    “How dare  _you_  barge come to my house without notice and order  _my_  slaves around.”

    You feel the final string of patience snap inside you as you say this. You set your small brush down harshly, stand, and spin to Nylah. The dim light from the setting sun you just stopped painting illuminating her red, scowling face, flaming eyes, and clenched fists. You’re done with her shit. Fuck the painting. Fuck being just another one of her slaves for any moment longer.

    “You think any opinion that isn’t yours is completely wrong, and if something isn’t how you like it then it’s disgusting and untouchable.” With a burst of courage, you take a step closer to her so she can hear you loud and clear as you snarl in her face. “I can always tell father that you’re cheating on him with who knows how many slaves because that’s how they ‘ _repay for their mistakes_ ’. That’s what you call it, right? You do remember it’s illegal to bed a normal slave, don’t you? You do know what father can do to you if he finds out,  _don’t you_?”

    The old hag takes a few steps back in shock. You take a few steps forward so you can keep aggressively whispering, since you’d probably squeak if you tried to properly speak right now. That, and the adrenaline fueling your outburst is now cycling out of your system, and you’re beginning to seriously regret ever speaking up. It’s too late to go back now, though.

    “It would be a shame if you made me lose  _all_  of my respect for you, and the information about your little ‘punishment’ room was conveniently given to police by an anonymous caller. Aren’t those illegal without proper registration as well? You don’t have that kind of license, do you?”

    “I know you. You wouldn’t dare.” sneered your stepmother. The problem is that she’s probably right, but she doesn’t need that kind of comfort.

    “Do you, though? Do you really know me? Because I don’t think you do. Father has only been trying his best to do whatever he does the right way, while you’ve been doing almost the exact opposite. So his respect from me comes in the form of calling him my real father and showing him loving gestures, while yours comes in the form of me not calling the police on you for the many,  _many_  things that can send you to jail or the Outskirts. Therefore, I will  _not_  make a gazebo for you, and you are, and always will be, my  _Step_ mother.”

    You sharply turn to pick up your half-finished, and now almost completely dry, painting and shove it in her arms roughly, ripping a small hole in the stretched canvas. The action send your head into a lightheaded spiral so strong you’re surprised you didn’t wobble. You plaster on an obvious fake smile and gesture towards your small manor.

    “I’m starting to feel a bit weary, so I’m going to clean up my paints and prepare to go to bed. Chanyeol will see you out,  _stepmother_.”

    She hesitates for only a moment, fuming and huffing and obviously considering responding, before ultimately storming off towards the garden, barking at Suho to follow her. He spares only a quick glance that could translate to “Help me” as much as “Good luck, you’ll need it”, then he’s right on Nylah’s heels.

    You use your  _walkie-talkie thing_ , you now call it out of petty spite, to call Chanyeol once your mother is out of earshot. The poor man is obviously worried about you under all of the professionalism he shows when he responds. You simply give him a direct order to make sure your mother is escorted off of the property, and to immediately call you back if she causes  _any_  problems for him.

    A direct order takes top priority over any other instructions a slave has, and no one can undo that order unless the slave changes owners, the direct order is completed, or if the slave or owner dies. You suppose the owner could change their mind, but a direct order isn’t taken lightly. The average owner tends to give these to out to slaves like the random mall workers give out hand lotions to random people in the common malls. The last time you gave one was three and a half years ago; “ _Don’t listen to any orders given to you unless they come directly from my mouth. That’s a direct order. Do you understand? I can not lose you two._ ”

    The full realization of what you just did hits you like a truck. She is going to be  _pissed_  at you, and she has the power to easily make your life a living hell. You try to slow your breathing, hyper aware of the fact you’re beginning to hyperventilate at the thought. As far as you know, your father adores her. She gets anything and everything she wants, and if she wants you gone, you don’t know which one of you your dad would choose. Although you can’t quite blame him, it’s either a woman he’s been married to for decades now, or the random baby they found on their doorstep years ago.

    You sink to the ground and hug your knees. This house and a good sum of your monthly paycheck comes from your family, and without either of those things you wouldn’t qualify to own slaves anymore. You would lose Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae. You also wouldn’t have the space to continue making art to sell, so you would end up being nothing more than another homeless woman desperately scouring the city for food and money. If that old woman decides to do something to you for the way you just threatened her, she can potentially ruin the life you have set up. You can barely talk to people on the phone, you can’t be expected to do an actual interview for a common job, where the market is harsh even for someone charismatic!

    When did you get so dizzy?

    “M’lady?” Jongdae’s voice tears through your overwhelming thoughts, making you jump. You forgot he was still standing behind you. Except he isn’t anymore, he’s crouched in front of you, and looks rather worried, but calm. “M’lady, should I go get Kyungsoo? You don’t look well.”

    Ah, that’s why you’re dizzy. You’ve forgotten to breathe again. You sometimes do that when having mild panic attacks in front of people. You don’t want to inconvenience or worry them with any hyperventilating or heavy breathing in general.

    You take in a deep breath of air, then another, and one more before your breathing goes back to normal. You finally find your voice.

    “I’m fine.” you barely make out. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m fine. Just overthinking is all. I’ll be okay.” You stand up mechanically as if to prove your point. “My mother should be gone by now, so you can go back to being casual again, if you’d like.” You spin to clean up your painting things, feeling only a tad lightheaded at the movement.

    “Are you sure you’re okay, Miss Y/n? From what I know of you, which- actually isn’t much, that was very out of character for you?”

    He seems genuinely concerned about you, so you try your best to briefly explain your situation, and how big of a mistake you just made, making sure to sugarcoat it heavily so he doesn’t worry more than needed. By the time you finish, you both are walking out of your gazebo with arms full of art supplies.

    “If you don’t mind me giving my personal opinion, I don’t think she’ll do anything. If she’s as narcissistic as she seems, she wouldn’t want anything ruining her image. Even an unsupported rumor of what you accused her of would damage her public image of your father’s perfect trophy wife.”

    “I really hope you’re right, Jongdae. I really hope you’re right…”

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

    You just finished organizing and cleaning your entire art room, which was no small task. After putting all of your art equipment in a random cleared space in the room, you got a burst of annoyance at the thought of constantly having to search for your tools, so you sucked it up and spent the past couple of hours distracting yourself by doing some much needed organizing. You don’t let Kyungsoo or Chanyeol clean this room, despite the black-haired man’s complaints about its messy state, because you selfishly don’t want anyone touching your safe haven.

    Although, when you finally stand up and soak in your handy work, you notice that Jongdae and Chanyeol are sitting on the window seat, examining the art in a random, black sketchbook. You slide over and sit down with them silently, trying to see what they’re whispering about.

    It’s a simple sketch of some people in a diner, if you can even call it a proper sketch. The people are just circles and lines, and the background just random boxes and labels of what they represent, but it portrays the action well enough. There seems to be two women on one side of the booth, both wearing what looks like rings on their trapezoidal left hands, and another woman and a man on the other side. The blockish man has his arm around the lady’s circle shoulders, all four laughing at something based on the quick, cartoonish faces you drew on all of them.

    You remember when you used to do this all the time when you were in high school, usually while in class or out with your stepparents. Watching people is very easy to do, since they’re literally everywhere, and ovals and lines are quick and easy to draw, so you made stick figures of random people you saw doing things, then added some proportions using circles and squares. It was fairly difficult to do at first, seeing as the people kept moving before you could finish, but, as with most things, it became easier with practice.

    “Y/n!” Chanyeol’s shout rips you from your straying thoughts with a jump.

    “Miss Y/n, you’re a wonderful artist.” Jongdae must have clearly seen the way you jumped because he was talking in a more gentle tone than usual. Although, that could be left over from what he saw earlier.

    “Oh. Thank you. I try my best.”

    “Are you alright, Y/n?” Kyungsoo calls from the open door, “Your mother seemed livid and somewhat shocked when she left. And you’re not one to give direct orders as small as ‘See her out the door.’ You didn’t respond when we were calling you just now, and you’re usually very attentive.”

   You take the gentle hint and recite a sugar-coated version of what happened in the gazebo, and explain you were simply zoned out, thinking about the past just then. You notice Jongdae’s confused stare and send a silent plea to him while Kyungsoo and Chanyeol aren’t looking. His face becomes neutral once more and nods slightly. You send a closed mouthed smile to him in return, then yawn.

    “Alright then!” Kyungsoo claps his hands together once, “It’s nearly midnight, and judging by Y/n’s yawn and Chanyeol’s drooping eyes, it’s time to go to bed.”

    No one argued with him and everybody shuffled to their rooms for the night. You remain awake for only a few minutes after your head hits the pillow, just enough time to reflect on the past two days. You hope to yourself that nothing bad will happen, then sloppily knock on the wood of your headboard to keep from jinxing yourself as you slip into the land of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I missed last week’s update! 😣 I got extremely busy with Art 3 and Ceramics homework for school and painting dolls for my parents to set up outside my house for halloween. I love art (what could have possibly given that away???), but it takes forever for me to do because I’m a perfectionist. That’s my excuse. Too much Art to do. The horror. 😂 Aaanyway, I’m probably going to be less busy this week so I’ll actually try to update on time. 😆 Love you all! Thank you for reading!


	4. A More Pleasant Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of physical/sexual abuse, Mention of torture, Non-explicit description of abuse

    You’ve spent all day yesterday and the day before waiting for your father to call about your punishment for how you treated your stepmother. The phone still hasn’t rung yet. In order to calm down, you’ve been painting, sketching, and completing unfinished projects so you can sell them online and at art fairs. The good part about this is you now have plenty of things for sale, and you and Jongdae have had more time to properly get to know each other. The bad news is that your sleeping schedule is gradually slipping into non-existent, even though it’s only been a few days. Your overactive mind has been keeping you up so late anxiously waiting for that life-demolishing call.

    Although, to be fair, you half-blame the internet for your current, horrible sleeping habits more than anticipation of the call itself. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to know that, though.

    You wake up once again on your bed, as usual, except this time you can feel the spirals of your sketchbook binding pressing uncomfortably against your cheek. You groggily sit up, and gently rub where it left angry red indents in your skin as you examine the rough sketch of Chanyeol you were working on at an ungodly hour of the night. Although, now that you’re more awake and there’s much more light seeping through your curtains, you can see that it doesn’t even look human, let alone a specific, silver-haired one.  _It could probably pass as a zombie_ , you think just as Jongdae knocks and invites himself in.

    “Miss Y/n, time to wa- Oh, you’re up already. Did you go to sleep earlier last night?”

    Jongdae no longer looks painfully awkward when asking a question without your explicit permission to, and his words are much more casual. You’re proud of that fact, and of him. It seems he has decided to trust you, even after any and every horror he’s faced in his life, and he’s adapting to your lifestyle with the other two men. He’s much happier and more at ease, though still very formal and skittish about trying new things. Even Kyungsoo and Chanyeol mentioned that he was gaining confidence around them as well.

    Returning to the real world, you shake your head no in an honest response, letting out a yawn.

    “You really should try to get to sleep earlier,” he leisurely makes his way to where you’re sat on your bed, “it’s bad for your health to stay up late like you have been, and it’s part of my duty to see that you are always in good health… What’s this?” he points to the sketch of what you’ve just decided is a zombie.

   “Uh, just a sloppy sketch of a zombie or something.” You shrug. “Couldn’t fall asleep last night.”

   “It looks a lot like Chanyeol, and doesn’t exactly seem  _dead_.”  _Busted_. You shrug again, and he continues before you can change the topic. “Could I suggest putting more cuts and making him look skinnier if you would like it to be more obvious that he’s a zombie.”  _Never mind, then_. “Anyway, lunch is nearly complete. I came to wake you so you could eat. I’ll leave so you can get dressed.”

    The blonde man turns and heads towards your door and you follow him out before he can shut it. He looks at you questioningly for a moment, but you just walk past him and down the stairs, exhausted. You can’t be bothered to change when you aren’t going anywhere where people will judge you for walking around in your pajamas. You fell asleep fully clothed, so it’s not like you’re indecent or something.

    “Good morning,” Kyungsoo greets when you turn into the kitchen, “did you rest any better last night?”

    You shrug a response, causing Chanyeol to speak up.

    “You really should try and do something other than worry. If she was really out to get you after what happened, don’t you think she would’ve tried something already?”

    “She could be  _waiting_  for me to let my guard down, though. Waiting until I feel safe to rip the rug out from under my feet-”

    “Okay!” Kyungsoo suddenly calls out, clapping his hands once loudly enough to gather everybody’s attention. The room remains silent for a few moments while the usually-reserved man thinks. He then abruptly blurts out again, causing Jongdae to jump almost unnoticeably, “Okay, call me an annoying mom or something, but I think we should do some bonding-type thing. Like go out and get something to eat together or something.”

    “What does this have to do with my sleep schedule?” Your words hold no hostility, only genuine curiosity.

    “As many times as you’ve heard people in the past tell you this, you should know that getting outside and doing something generally  _does_  make people feel at least more refreshed. You need more sleep, so you should go out and do something.”

    “Plus, Jongdae has only seen this panicky and stressed side of you,” Chanyeol jumps in, “so it’d be nice if he got to know the real you, and it may take your mind off the problem you think is at hand right now.”

    What they both said were true, and you couldn’t really deny it. As much as you hated going outside and doing things, you always came home more relaxed, even if the reason was just being inside again after dealing with people. Besides, you did tell yourself at the event that you should go out more, even if any people interactions you have are the retail workers who kind of  _have_  to be nice to you. It’s a good place to finally start practicing being around people.

    You look towards Jongdae, who is looking down to his feet out of habit, and say his name to get his attention. He looks up at you with a polite “yes ma’am?”. You ask him one question.

    “Where would you like to go today?”

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

    In the end, the only place you got Jongdae to confess he wanted to go to was the collar store, saying how he ‘ _would like a different color besides pink because it’s an informal color to wear._ ’ The three of you agreed with him, and you left the store with two collars for Jongdae; one white and the other black. You also got Kyungsoo some new collars, since he felt left out and stuck with older, more worn down ones. You don’t go out often at all, and the slave master must always be present to purchase a collar, rather than having a slave buy it with a “Master’s Note” on hand like grocery and department stores allow, for several different reasons. Therefore it wasn’t often that he and Chanyeol got new collars.

    Now, though, you’re sitting at a table in an upper-class mall’s food court, eating from a random place that you all deemed edible enough. You usually prefer to go to the upper-class malls versus the “common malls”, despite usually disliking the meaning and side effects that come with your title.

    There’s not a huge difference between “common” and “upper-class” malls, actually. Upper-class malls are larger than common ones, and sells newer and more expensive products and services than the “common mall”. They don’t look much different one another, the upper-class ones maybe cleaner and shinier if anything. That and more jewelry and formal clothing shops, and less randomly placed massaging chairs and small shops in the middle of the walkways. This also means less people to confront you for “a free lotion sample!” then hit you with ‘Can I ask you a question while I awkwardly hold on to this small packet longer than necessary to stall for time?’. Although, that also means less tiny dessert shops where you can get a cheap bag of fresh delicious treats.

    Before you gave in to your hunger and searched for food, you bought a few video games, board games, and movies, mainly because Jongdae desperately needs to be educated in the world of entertainment. You also looked at wall paint, flooring, and furniture to finally fix the disgusting theme of the game room. Now it will consist of white walls, beautifully designed rugs, and black couches with side tables and little cabinets– one for each of the different consoles you own and their respective controllers– that complement the mostly monochrome design. The white should also make it easier on the eyes while staring at the screen for long periods of time, that’s what Chanyeol believes anyway. You have yet to approve of its legitimacy.

    It was almost boring shopping for these things because none of the people you’re buying these for aren’t able to speak their true opinions in public, making this trip mostly silent. You got it done, though, and the furniture will be sent to your house within the next week or so, rather than later today, due to the recent demand from that particular store.

    “Y/n! Hello, child!”

    You snap your head towards the very cheery and familiar voice.

    “Father? What brings you here?”

    You stand with a genuine smile on your face, and he takes that as permission to squish you into a large bear hug. You don’t fight against it like you would with nearly everyone else. He may be high in the ranks of the organization you hate with almost every fiber of your being, but his morals are straighter than the people he works with. He isn’t a monster by explicit choice or knowledge, per se.

    His face somehow lights up even more and sports an ear-to-ear smile. He’s wearing casual clothes, a t-shirt and jeans, the look completed with glasses and his favorite hat. That must be why paparazzi aren’t swarming him right now, especially with the news of someone within his squad getting promoted, which means the big man himself is retiring after decades of work, and whispers of a new slave law being passed.

    “Oh, I’m simply taking a break from work with Lay, here, and people watching. All this top secret stuff was making me exhausted and grumpy!”

    He practically roars in laughter at himself. He has always been one of the loudest laughers and sneezers you’ve ever heard, and it tended to be quite entertaining when in small doses. Right now you’re just happy that this section of the mall isn’t as busy as usual, and the people that are here are preoccupied with their food. His laugh can be a dead give away of his, and you don’t feel like getting attention. Although, when do you ever feel like getting unnecessary attention?

    “What brings you here? I thought you were frightened of people?”

    At least he has a very basic understanding of what you feel, unlike  _some_  people.

    “I haven’t been sleeping well lately, so my slaves suggested that I go out and do something. I decided to bring them along so I feel more protected. They aid me tremendously.” He’s the only one you wouldn’t outright lie to. You never tell him the full truth, obviously, but you never feel pressured to make up complete lies like you do so easily for your stepmother.

    “So you rewarded them with food. Such a warm-hearted child!” he praises you with a gentle shake to the shoulders, “I completely agree. About the fact slaves help, I mean. I’d probably be dead long ago if I never found Lay!” He once again laughs, although not as obnoxious and loud as before. After calming down, he gestures to the table right next to the one you just stood up from, “You don’t mind if we sit here and chat with you, do you?”

    “Of course I don’t mind, we haven’t talked in forever with how your schedule is!” you agree with a smile. He’s more enjoyable to talk to than anyone else you know that isn’t legally a slave. Well, your one, real friend from high school isn’t a slave, you suppose.

    You and your father sit at a smaller table, while Lay sits with D.O., Chanyeol, and Chen, as you reintroduce them to your stepfather. You notice that Lay’s hair has been changed from the light blonde you’ve grown up with to a full head of pastel blue. You inquire about it, since it’s extremely rare to have an all cool-colored slave. Your father answers enthusiastically.

    “Ah, Yes! I was waiting for you to ask about him! You know how Lay has always helped me out with more personal tasks and giving me advice, right?”

    You nod, recalling the way Lay would point out everything he liked and disliked in your stepfather’s powerpoints when asked for his opinion. This usually happened as a last-minute check in the middle of the night while you were trying to sneak food from the kitchen, leading you to getting caught on multiple occasions.

    “Well, it just occurred to me last week that this lovely man- well, refuses and replaces orders seem like negative things- but that’s what he does! Only because he has better ways of completing the tasks I give! He was hesitant to retake the color test, of course, but because he is comfortable around you and I and trusts we won’t abuse the glory of the perks that come with his blue hair, he has been officially upgraded to a full blue slave now, instead of the young blondeie we’ve grown so used to.”

    You give a ‘congratulations’ to Lay, and a promise to treat him in the same, respectful way you always have. After that short exchange, you end up sitting in the cushioned food court seat chatting with your father for nearly two and a half hours. The topics changed from work, to activities you two do in your free times, to home life, to a mature debate about the roles slaves should have in a household (you two surprisingly have a more similar answer to this than you expected; just housework). The current topic, though, is your stepmother and her general attitude.

    “I wasn’t aware that she was still demanding to have that blasted gazebo. I told her to let it be ages ago!” Your father is getting aggravated, as he usually does when Nylah’s wrong doings are mentioned.

    You decide to cautiously ask him the question you’ve been asking yourself for the past few years, “I apologize in advance for seeming brash, since this is really none of my business, but I’m sure you know she only stays for your power and wealth. Why do you stay? What do you see in her?” He releases a long and saddened sigh.

    “If I’m going to be honest, I don’t find many things appealing about her. I stay mainly for my reputation… You know how the press is and how celebrity divorces usually go, and I’m technically a celebrity around here, as much as I genuinely hate to say it. I’ve already been through a divorce, if I go through a second, I’ll seem like the bad man I try not to be, rather than one who doesn’t wait long enough to pop the question.” He breathily laughs a disappointed chuckle, “I need to keep my income so we can have the life we want and are used to, and I can’t leave her and expect my payroll and possible promotion to remain unchanged at the same time, so I’ll stick it out. At least for a bit longer.”

    You’d be lying if you said that answer didn’t shock you into silence.

    It even seems like this is one of the many things that’s been stressing him out, and that adds on to your surprise. You thought he was completely enamored with her, that he would choose her over you in a heartbeat. You guess you were just seeing and reading into things incorrectly again, or that they’re very good at acting. It’s most likely that latter.

    You only nod slowly in understanding, despite the utter shock of this new information. Before you can offer any words of comfort to the old man, though, Kyungsoo politely asks to speak. You give him permission with a nod from your father, and what he asks your stepfather leaves you surprised once again.

    “What if it was discovered that she had been involved with illegal doings?” He seems to understand how this sounds like some kind of threat as soon as the words left his mouth, especially with the natural tone of his voice, because his eyes widen and he’s quick to correct himself. “I am not saying she is, Mister Y/l/n, I am only speaking hypothetically. I mean absolutely no offense when I say this as well, she is a wonderful lady-” Your stepfather’s signature laugh interrupts Kyungsoo.

    “Now now, there’s no need to tell such a lie. I think all six of us here know that she can be less than pleasant!” he continues chuckling in his own special, and somewhat loud way, helping Kyungsoo relax as he obviously took no offense. When the old man finally calms down, he becomes very serious and his voice drops in volume and tone. “If I find out she is some type of criminal, any type at all, I wouldn’t hesitate to leave her.” He turns to you, “I want only what’s best for you, and having a criminal for a mother is wrong. Plus staying with her would taint my reputation more than just divorcing her, and I’m sure the public would agree with that decision.”

    “Sir, may I speak?” Lay asks.

     Lay’s been with your father for nearly as long as you can remember. He was bought by your father when he was nearly fourteen, before the age limit for slaves was raised from twelve to sixteen some years ago. Lay is now 26 years old and is inseparable from your stepfather, it seems. He is also one of the major people that influenced the way you view slaves. He was, and still is, a very loyal man to your father, and still acts human around your father and you. Seeing the way he has to change his entire self around any others was painful for you when you were younger, and it didn’t help that you’re close in age. Only three years apart.

    “Of course, Lay! What is it?”

    “Do you happen to know the contents of the last room in the third floor’s right hallway?”

    “Not exactly, no. What does this have to do with anything?” He was only curious, no accusation laced his voice.

    “I have direct orders from the mistress to keep that information from you.”

    Your father’s face drops once more, “You are not owned under her name, only mine. So she doesn’t have the right to give you a direct order, and I would like you to tell me what’s behind that door. I did not realize that she was still able to access that room. I thought she lost the key to it one evening.”

    “No sir, she never lost the key.” mumbles the poor man

    Lay is now looking everywhere except at your father, even making eye contact with you for a moment. In that moment, though, he must have seen the knowing look you’ve been trying to hide because he does a double-take. You both have an understanding in that moment that you know exactly what he’s talking about. His eyes practically scream for you to help him. Your father’s voice rips both of your focuses from each other.

    “Then where is it, Lay?”

    “It’s always around her neck, sir. Although, with all do respect, if she finds out that you know about the key, she’ll become livid and take it out on the others as she always does. It’ll be worse if you confront her directly.” the slave pleads quietly.

    “What else am I supposed to do when you aren’t answering my question?” the old man lowers his voice threateningly, “I want to know what’s inside, and if that means I must ask my wife for the only bloody key to the room because you are incompetent enough to believe she has any control over you, then I will ask her for it! How else am I supposed to get insi-”

    “I can pick locks.” blurts Chanyeol. His eyes are no longer focused on the table, but determinedly looking your father in the eyes. Slaves are meant to keep their heads down, especially when talking to someone of power, not to mention interrupting someone is considered rude by normal people, but for a  _slave_  to do so...

    Silence. Only the hums of other people moving and chatting in the background keeps you from drowning in it further than you already are.

    “Chanyeol.” you growl, turning your shocked and concerned stare into a convincing glare with a slight shift of your eyebrows and lips, all the while trying your best to ignore the nerves bubbling up inside you. Realization hits the tall man hard.

    “I sincerely apologize, M’lady, and especially to you, sir. Speaking out of turn like that was completely unacceptable of me, and even more so while you were speaking yourself.” He looks terrified of what he had just done, and for good reason too.

    Your father directs his gaze at you, and you continue to glare as harshly as you can at Chanyeol, which isn’t very harsh, admittedly, but that doesn’t stop the slave in question from visibly trying to melt into the chair.

    “I’ll take care of this when we get home.” Your heart is beating so fast and so hard, you’re surprised you even got those words out without your voice wavering, even with how low you spoke them.

    “I’m willing to forgive you wholeheartedly, but only if my daughter agrees to allow me to use to you to get into that room, since Lay here is obviously uncomfortable with telling me what’s inside” He shifts his attention from him to you mid-sentence.

    You look to Chanyeol, and he subtly meets your eyes with the same determination he had before everything got this tense. You know he wouldn’t give information like that unless he was getting something in return or volunteering to help. With a sigh, you agree to come over with Chanyeol at some point in time. As much as you don’t want to go near that place again, it would look very suspicious if Chanyeol was there without you. Your father quickly gets up from the table with Lay following his lead.

    “Alright! It’s settled then! Let’s go!” He cheers while turning to walk towards the exit.

    “Wait, right now? We’re gonna do this  _now_?” Your father interrupts you before you can list all of the reasons why this is a horrible idea.

    “Your mother won’t be home until later tonight,” he doesn’t stop or slow down, so you and the three remaining slaves stand and catch up with his fast, impatient pace, “and I can have any security cameras disabled while he’s fiddling with the lock, so we don’t get caught by her if it turns out to be nothing! Now’s the perfect time to do this! Now or never, Y/n!”

    With a defeated sigh, you continue to follow silently behind him out of the mall and to the parking lot, all the while going over every possible thing that could go wrong by doing this now. Then you go over everything that could go wrong if you did it another time. That’s if there will ever be another time available. You hate to admit it, but as sudden as this is, you don’t know when else your mother will be out of the house long enough to do this while your father is home at the same time. Plus, your father is not a patient man when it comes to secrets and surprises.

    You walk around to the passenger door, not needing to tell Chanyeol that he’s on driving duty as soon as he sets down the bags he’s holding in the back of the car. Your left side suddenly becomes chillier, and you turn to see Jongdae stepping back to open the car door for you. He closes your door gets in his own seat after you’ve sat down and made yourself comfortable. Chanyeol gets in last, hastily putting the key in the ignition and setting off to follow your stepfather to your parents’ mansion. It’s less than fifteen miles down from your house, but their house is much larger and more grand to match the size of their property. You still don’t know why they won’t put the extra, unkept 120 acres at the back of their property to good use, or to any use at all.

    It would be a fantastic place to hide a “punishment room”. No one would hear any screams and it would be deep in the private property of someone who could make anyone a slave at the snap of his fingers.

    “I didn’t even think of that. They  _do_  own 200 acres or so of land…” Kyungsoo trails off. You realize you must have accidentally said your thoughts out loud yet again after a brief moment of confusion.

    “Is this lady actually as cruel as you guys are making her out to be?” Jongdae’s fearful and concerned voice rings out in the car. Chanyeol ignores his question, and asks his own.

    “What if it isn’t a torture room?”

    “What do you mean? What else could it possibly be?” the blonde asks.

    “I mean, how many of her slaves look physically damaged?” This time, Kyungsoo responds to Chanyeol, since Jongdae obviously wouldn’t know the answer.

    “Last I’ve seen, not a lot, if any. But their uniforms could cover any scars she leaves.”

    “But literally hundreds of slaves under that kind of control? It seems unrealistic.”

    Jongdae jumps in, “If I was bought by her then given this information after I got settled in, I would fear for my life, even though I hadn’t actually seen anything.” His voice lowers to a mumble, “I already kind of do.” You barely hear his last addition because his voice drops so low, “She’s worse than I originally thought...”

    “I doubt that it’s just a torture chamber, anyway.” You inform, absentmindedly rubbing your hands together. “There are other forms of abuse besides violence and emotional. We shouldn’t worry though, everything is going to be fine, don’t worry about her. My father knows how to placate her very well. We’ll be fine...” Even though you’re directing it to the distressed man behind your chair, you say this mainly for yourself.

    “Y/n is right. We’ll all be okay. Besides, she won’t let anything hurt us, or she’ll- well, I pretty sure she won’t  _die_  trying- but she’ll put in a good effort for us, nonetheless.” Kyungsoo’s words bring a small and soft laugh out of Chanyeol.

    “I second that.” Chanyeol agrees.

    The car falls into a comfortable silence, and it stays that way until you arrive at the large, rot iron gates that mark the entrance to your parents property. Unlike your place, which can be considered a small mansion or very large house, your parent’s place is a proper mansion. Also, instead of being a measly couple of acres away from the road like yours, their mansion is so far back from the road that it almost looks like a normal-sized house. You see people– slaves– scattered around the front of the property, making sure the grass is a healthy, bright green and that it’s mowed short and even.

    When both cars are parked in the driveway, everyone steps out, Jongdae opening your door for you again before you can open it yourself. You are now very aware of the fact that Jongdae has pressed his whole side against yours as everyone walks towards the large building, and you can’t find it in yourself to push him away like you really ought to. It’s a form of comfort you both desperately need in this moment.

    You don’t realize you’ve zoned for a second out until you hear your father say something to Lay, then watch the man in question take off into the mansion ahead of the five of you.

    Their mansion is like every stereotypical mansion in movies and tv shows. Large, white, and accented with gold. As your father leads everyone through the now open doors, the inside is revealed, which continues to be similar to every movie mansion ever. White coats everything with a large gold chandelier mounted on the high ceiling, and red carpet paths down the center of the large room to the stairs. The stairs face the door in the opposite side of the room and start in the middle and breaks into two different paths, with a painting of your step-parents you commissioned for them. It matches everything else on this property, it is unnecessarily large, grand, and was very expensive, even with the “family discount” you were practically forced to give.

    You follow your father up the stairs and to the right. You make your way down the large hallway, lined with white, gold, and red, with the occasional splash of silver, a ways, and climb a smaller set of stairs before you reach the designated hallway. Just as you were told by Lay, the locked door was at the very end on the left. She’s moved it from where you remember it last being. Although, it has been a few years since you’ve gone looking for this kind of thing.

    Lay meets you guys here a few minutes later, slightly out of breath, and tells your father that the cameras have been set on a loop. It’s recording the few seconds before anyone entered the property over and over again, effectively giving the illusion that the cameras are recording properly and that they haven’t caught anyone here. Your father then sharply turns around to you.

    “I should have asked you this before we got up here, but what will he need to pick this lock?” He nods his head towards Chanyeol, standing to your right.

    You look at Chanyeol, questioning him silently, and he answers for himself. “Just some bobby pins or paperclips, since I assume you don’t have lock picks casually lying around.” Chanyeol tries to joke with a cautious smile. Your father smiles a bit, not at all mad, and hands over five paper clips, Chanyeol only takes two.

    He straightens one out completely and makes a small 90 degree angle with the other one, then moves to the lock. His face twists into seriousness and concentration as he kneels down, contrasting his usual happy and energetic self you’re accustomed to. He sticks the bent one in the lock first, and keeps it flat and still inside as he fidgets with the straight one with his other hand. After a mere minute or so, the lock gives away slightly and he twists it until a click signals it has been fully unlocked. Chanyeol whispers a cheer along the lines of “Still got it” and “That’s not a safe lock” while standing up, gesturing to the door.

    “It’s unlocked now, sir.” he says calmly, as if none of you could hear and see him unlocking it yourselves.

    Your stepfather nods, and steps in front of the door. He gingerly puts his hand on the handle, and looks to you. You give a single, determined nod, assuming he wants some kind of confirmation. He twists the handle and slowly opens the door, only barely enough for him to peek his head inside just as cautiously as the rest of his movements. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, and you send worried glances to the four younger men standing behind you, who all return the look. You decide to speak up.

    “What do you see, father?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya Guys! I know it’s been a while since my last update, and I’m super sorry! But now that Halloween is over and the first quarter is over at my school (meaning no last-minute art and creative writing things need to be finished) I have more time to write! 😄 Anyway, I know this chapter is much shorter than the others, but I wanted to leave a cliffhanger this time, instead of ending it with “You closed you eyes and slept” or “You smile”. I’ve already started next week’s chapter, so y’all don’t have to worry about waiting a month for an update again. 😂 I’ll see you all in the next update!


	5. Impromptu Investigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Abuse, Swearing, Non-explicit description of torture tools, Brief Gore, Mentions of death, Verbal argument, Aspects of anxiety similar to mine

    He looks back at you with an unreadable expression covering his face, then pushes the door wider so the five of you can peek inside yourselves.

    “A storage room?” You wonder out loud. “There’s only old furniture in here.”

    This is not what you spent half an hour preparing yourself for.

    Lay is quick to ask permission to speak, and when he gets it, it becomes obvious that he didn’t carefully prepare what he was going to say ahead of time in his head like he normally seems to do.

    “She actually does wear a key around her neck! She actually does do…” his voice quiets to a whimper, “ _things_ … to them…”

    Kyungsoo asks permission to present an idea, which you grant with a nod. “This property has over a hundred acres of land. Is that correct, Sir?”

    Your father must pick up what your slave is putting down instantly because he dashes off as fast as his older bones will let him after only a few brief moments of thinking. You once again have to rush in order to catch up with his pace. You struggle to follow him down to the basement, which is where all of the surveillance and security equipment are kept. He stops in front of a wall of screens displaying footage from different cameras. He taps different buttons and clicks on different things, and gets the recorded footage to rewind. He keeps going backwards until yesterday afternoon, where your stepmother began violently yelling at a slave in the entrance room, who you recognize as Suho.

    She hit him once, twice, then a third time. It’s obvious that he was in pain, but he didn’t seem to be begging for forgiveness like one would expect a slave to do in this situation. The way she yanked his hair to get him moving towards the front door shows how livid she was at that moment. She dragged him outside to one of the cars and locked him in the trunk. She then got in the driver’s side and drove away herself, instead of asking a slave to drive her. This only proves how much of a rush she was in; you weren’t aware that she even had a driver’s license. The front door opening and a less pleasant voice interrupts your investigation.

    “Honey! Are you down here?”  _Your stepmother._

    “Yes dear!” your father replies as he scrambles to reset the footage to current time.

    “What are you doing down here?” Her tone almost sounds accusing, making you think she already knows what you’re up to. Before your father can think of a poor lie, or allow a suspicious pause of silence that would make you seem more suspicious, you impulsively spill a lie to her like you always do.

    “We thought some of the windows looked unlocked in the kitchen, so we were checking the security footage just in case.”

    “And why are  _you_  here, exactly? And with all of your slaves nonetheless.”

    “I went to the mall for a few things, and ran into father and Lay while grabbing a snack at the food court. He invited me over to try the new tea he had bought.” You vaguely recall him telling you about a new tea he found and enjoyed during your long conversation earlier just in time to reinforce your partial lie. She doesn’t look impressed, much less pleased, but doesn’t say anything. Your father fills the tense silence.

    “Well, I think it’s time for some alone time for us. Don’t you agree, love?” he asks almost flirtatiously, wrapping his arm around your stepmother’s waist. She leans into him and hums as an answer, keeping her glaring focused on you. You, on the other hand, only give your father your attention as you speak.

    “I have eaten up quite a bit of your time today. I will see you again soon, hopefully.” You turn to the woman looking down on you and simply state “Mother.” as a farewell to her. She ‘hmphs’ once more as you leave the basement, and their mansion. 

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

    You wake up early the next morning lying down on a couch, and suddenly remember how you got there in the first place.

    _You walked through your door and declared that tonight was a movie night. Everybody went to their respective rooms to change into comfortable pajamas. You took the bags of stuff from the car to your room while you changed, then brought them to the third floor. You placed the bag of movies down in the theatre room, where a large projector and the best speakers you own reside, and the other three bags in the gaming room. You then head downstairs to help Kyungsoo fix popcorn and candy at Chanyeol’s request. After everyone was comfortable in their chairs and had food resting on their laps, you began playing one of your favorite childhood movies because you promised to show Jongdae that one first._

    The four of you must have fell asleep before the movie ended, and you are somehow the only person awake in the room right now. Your plan to get everyone, including yourself, to relax last night after what happened must have worked wonders. You silently get up and leave the room, shutting the door behind you, deciding that you want to apologize to your makeshift family for your constant paranoid behavior by making breakfast this morning. You’re not sure how yet, but it’s somehow going to get done.

    Forty minutes and some extensive searching later, you decide to make smoothies, french toast, and scrambled eggs. The sky is finally beginning to brighten from black to a dark blue. Kyungsoo always gets up with the sun, so you don’t have too much time left to finish this relatively simple dish.

     You preheat the pans and crack eggs into two separate bowls, one for the french toast and another for the scrambled eggs. You prepare them and let them cook as you put some frozen fruit, a splash of milk, and a dab of yogurt into a blender. You cook the french toast, and cook the scrambled eggs when those are nearing done, then turn on the blender. By the time the smoothies are done, the rest of the food is done and on platters. You move to set the four smoothies on the table, but after two steps, you notice the weather is perfect for eating outside right now, so you turn around to head to the front yard instead. Spotting Kyungsoo leaning against the kitchen entrance with a gentle smile almost makes you drop the smoothies. How does he always manage to sneak up on you like this?

    He answers your question before you get the chance to ask it.

    “I got here just as you were grabbing the smoothies from the counter, so I haven’t been watching long, I promise. Here, let me help you move some of this to the front yard.”

    He proceeds to take one of the platters and move to the front door without you, and you don’t question how he knows you were going outside (you probably said something out loud by mistake again). He opens the door, with you on his heels, and sets his platter on the outdoor table set on your front porch. You would use the table in the back, but you don’t think anyone would like having a pile of flower petals and pollen as a side dish, especially since it’s well into fall and everything is dying. Kyungsoo interrupts your wandering thoughts.

    “You should go wake Chanyeol and Jongdae up before this gets any colder. I’ll get the rest of the food set up and wait for you.”

    You nod in agreement and rush into the house and to the theatre room. You slowly open the door, hyper aware of the fact that it squeaks when opened too wide. You do silent cheer when you make it inside the room without alarming the two sleeping men. It would be best to wake them up without making them believe there is some kind of intruder in the building, which would be Chanyeol’s first assumption upon waking to that noise.

    You lean down and put your hand onto the taller man’s shoulder and shake ever so gently, all the while whispering carefully to him to get up. Chanyeol panics easily if he’s woken up by something or someone, but he’ll calm quickly if he hears that it’s someone he trusts. After one more nudge to his shoulder, he wakes up with a small gasp and wide eyes. He then immediately recoils and covers his face with his arms, most likely spooked at how close you were to him.

    “Chanyeol, you’re okay, it’s just me.” You gently rub the top of his head as he uncurls and relaxes, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry for waking you, but I made breakfast. Kyungsoo’s already waiting for us on the front porch.” He nods, gives you a quick hug and apology, which you tell him there’s no need to, then he silently makes his way out of the room.

    You turn to the sleeping form Jongdae, who looks like a bundle of blankets laying on the couch to your right. You step over to him and carefully peel the blankets away from his face. He looks more calm and peaceful right now than you’ve ever seen, and you wish you could let him sleep, but the food is getting colder the longer you stand here. With that in mind, you grab where you think his shoulder would be in the cocoon of blankets, and gently shake him. He immediately blinks awake with a small groan.

    “Hey, breakfast is ready downstairs and getting cold. The other two are already waiting for us.”

    With that, Jongdae nods and begins the process of getting out of the blankets around him. That process ends with him giving up and rolling off the couch and hitting the ground with a thud. Although, it works, considering that he is now on the floor with half of the large blanket under him and the other half still on the couch. You laugh lightly and decide to not question how someone manages to trap themselves like that on a couch. You could see how it’s be possible on an actual bed, but not really on a couch.

    After processing what he just did, Jongdae gets up and stands at your side. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and you two remain that close until you make it to your spots at the outdoor table. Just like Kyungsoo promised, they don’t start eating until you have your own portions of food on your plates. Chanyeol is the first to say something.

    “The eggs are a bit salty, Y/n.”

    Before you can say anything, Kyungsoo defends you.

    “It’s not too much saltier than how I make them. I blame the new salt grinder we bought yesterday. That brand of salt is much stronger than the one we usually buy.”

    “Wait, when did you grab a salt grinder?” Chanyeol asks.

    You answer, “When you were silently making fun of the prices of the stuff on the other end of the isle.”

    “Oh.”

    There’s a brief moment of silence before Jongdae speaks up from the seat to your right.

    “You made all of this yourself, Miss Y/n?” You nod, and he continues. “I think it tastes great. I didn’t realize you knew how to cook on your own.”

    “Isn’t Y/n is the best!” Chanyeol butts in, “She knows how to cook  _some_  things properly. Owners generally don’t even know how to turn the oven on!”

    “It helps a lot, especially when there’s only four of us now that have to clean all of that.” Kyungsoo points to the large building behind you. “That also means less messes to clean in general, though, so it evens out, I think.”

    “It seems like it would.” Jongdae nods with a small smile, which quickly disappears. He continues before you can ask what’s wrong, “Isn’t that the car we saw your stepmother driving in the surveillance footage yesterday?” He subtly points to large house to the left of your property, where a green car, which resembles the one your mother drove off with yesterday, is driving out of the front gate and onto the main road.

    All four of you stay very quiet and still for no real reason, the road is too far away from where all of you are for anyone to tell what you’re doing from there. People on the road may not even realize that you guys are even outside. Once the four of you make an unspoken agreement that the car is finally out of sight, Chanyeol stands. The sound of the chair dragging against the finished wood startles Jongdae and makes Kyungsoo cringe.

    “I think we should check what’s in the house.” he practically growls.

    “Are you insane?!” Kyungsoo asks incredulously, “That psychopath just left that house and you want to  _go check inside_?!”

    Jongdae is obviously trying his best to stay calm, but his first words come out as almost a squeak. “She could have just been visiting your neighbors, though. And it may not have even been her car, right?”

    “I wasn’t even aware that people were allowed to go onto that property,” you begin, “There hasn’t really been any cars in the driveway ever, and no one tends the yard, as you can tell.” You gesture to overgrown grass around the building. “And my mother’s car is a newer model. There’s a chance someone else has that same type, but for it to be the same color and in the same area is extremely slim.”

    “I always assumed the reason why it hasn’t been sold is because it hasn’t been taken care of properly in a long while. Not many people would want a place looking like that. I’m surprised it hasn’t been taken by the bank yet.” Kyungsoo jumps in.

    Jongdae’s voice is more confident this time, but still uneasy when he offers his thoughts. “Unless somebody  _does_  own it, and they want it to look that way? There’s not many rules about property appearances around here, right?”

    “It’s final then! Lay said that that hag always has a key around her neck, and she dragged what’s-his-face away somewhere in that car! I’m grabbing my bag of supplies from inside and we’re gonna break in!” Chanyeol turns and jogs towards the front door, way too excited for what’s apparently going to happen.

    “Bag of supplies?” You end up being ignored.

    “But Chanyeol,” Jongdae pleads, “What if there are cameras? What if there actually is someone in there? I don’t think they’d appreciate us breaking into their house.”

    His head pokes out of the doorway. “Then we can knock first if it makes you feel better! And if there are cameras, it won’t matter to whoever controls the cameras or the police once we tell them about her stepmother!” He disappears inside.

    A beat of silence passes as everyone gathers and organizes their thoughts.

    “I think he is being too hasty about this, but I think I agree with him. I think we should at least try knocking and look for cameras. Possibly attempt at breaking in if anything seems suspicious enough to us. This situation and the coincidences that follow are already giving me red flags as it is.” You nod in agreement to Kyungsoo.

    “So, we’re going to knock and ring the doorbell like civil people, and if anything suggests something’s wrong, we’re going to break in? Just like that?” Jongdae moves back against your side as he asks this.

    “Yea, I guess.” You answer. “He said he was getting his ‘bag of supplies’? Anyone have any clue what exactly is inside or what’s in it?”

    Chanyeol answers abruptly from the still open doorway, causing you to jump.

    “I grabbed this from my old owner’s place years ago, thinking you would make me use it like he would at the time. It’s cheaper and more convenient to steal it back than buy a new set of tools I’m not used to and relearn the specifics.” He grabs a hoodie from the small pile on his arm and passes it to you, “I grabbed hoodies so the cameras would have a tougher time getting our faces.” He passes one to each member, then skips down the steps and to the garage. “C’mon, let’s get in the older car and go!” Chanyeol cheers.

    With a sigh and a shrug to the other two men on the large porch, you pull on the hoodie and make your way to your less used car, which is painted in your favorite color and was given to you as another 18th birthday present. You notice that Chanyeol covered the licence plates with black fabric, and you don’t even want to deal with it for now. You hear Jongdae take a shaky breath next to you, but before you can ask if he’s okay, he walk around you to open the passenger door for you. You thank him and get in as Kyungsoo jumps in the driver’s seat, seeing as Chanyeol is too hyper to safely drive, even if it’s just to the neighboring house.

    Once the four of you make it to the gate blocking the driveway from the main road, you pull up your hood and ring the buzzer, asking for entry. The buzzer doesn’t make any indication that it actually sounded, though, so you hop out and give the gate a hefty shove. It swings wide open to your surprise, groaning on its hinges and creating the perfect uneasy and tense atmosphere. You pause to look back at Kyungsoo with a form of suspicion as he drives just inside the gate, then stops again. You push the gate closed behind the car and hop back into it. He then drives towards the old, decrepit manor.

    It looks like it could have been a cream color at one point, but now it’s just a peeling, rotting brown. The wooden porch leading to the door looks like it couldn’t support your weight, let alone the addition of three fit men. You can see spots on the roof where the black shingles had fallen off at some point. From your property and the road, this place looked like a normal brown house with some boarded up windows and a bit of an overgrown grass problem, but now you know it’s much older and a tad smaller than what was originally thought.

    Kyungsoo parks in front of the large house, pockets the car key, and pulls up his hood as he hops out onto the old, rough gravel that makes the driveway. Chanyeol is at the door when your feet hit the ground, already ringing the doorbell with his own hood up. It must not be functional because Chanyeol gives up on mashing the small button rather quickly and begins knocking on the door impatiently. Jongdae sticks to your and Kyungsoo’s side carefully as you traipse up the four steps and to the silver-haired man. All four of you strain to hear anything coming from inside.

    Silence.

    Chanyeol knocks again. You do a quick scan for any cameras and find no obvious ones, and there doesn’t seem to be any unnatural gaps in the overgrown grass that indicates that there’s something placed there. You see Jongdae’s blonde hair flopping around on his forehead as he looks for something as well.

    Yet, there’s still nothing.

    You decide to knock- well, more like pound on the door one last time. In the end, the result is the same.

    Only Silence.

    Chanyeol is quick to reach in the leather bag he brought and pulls out a proper lock picking kit. He crouches down in front of the locks, just like he did yesterday, and works his magic. Within a few minutes, he has the door open and everybody is entering the house silently.

    The inside has deteriorated more than the outside, somehow. Everything is dirty and covered in either a layer of dust or mold. There’s large holes in the some of the walls where termites and other creatures destroyed the wood over time. The rotten wallpaper is peeling and crumbling everywhere you look, including the ceiling. The ground looks like it hasn’t been swept or mopped in decades– it probably legitimately hasn’t been, now that you think about it– and the long rug and the last chair left intact smell of wild animals and urine. The house itself smells like rotting wood and looks like it’s going to collapse at any moment.

    And this is only the entrance area.

    There’s what looks like a living room through a doorway directly in front of you, an average-sized staircase on either side of the doorway going different directions. To your immediate left of is a giant hole in the wall, showing the remains of a kitchen, and the archway leading into it is a few steps further into the entrance area. The doorway to the right leads to what seems to be a gaming area, judging from the partially deflated basketball in the corner and destroyed pool table. The living area looks like it has the least chance of crumbling under your feet, so you tentatively inch forward in that direction, the three men close behind you. As you’re walking, something catches Jongdae’s eye, and he gently tugs on your arm and points towards the kitchen.

    You spin to look at what exactly he’s pointing at, and are met with the sight of a white rug that just seems out of place. It looks rather new, besides dirt and such smeared on it, and it’s laying on the floor against the far wall under a boarded up window. You shift your movements to that direction, still trying to be aware of cameras or anything else suspicious. It can’t hurt to be extra cautious, especially when there’s a very good chance that your stepmother is involved with whatever this is.

    Chanyeol moves the obvious, white rug out of the way to reveal a hatch. You make the assumption that it’s locked, and are proven right when Chanyeol gets on the ground and starts fidgeting with the lock.

    “This one has a number code,” the crouched man whispers, “so it’s going to take me a bit longer to unlock this one. You might as well look around or something.”

   You and Kyungsoo wordlessly walk off in different directions, but Jongdae is still gripping on your arm. Although, with the way his face is carefully blank and posture is only slightly hunched, you don’t know if he wants protection from you, or if he’s the one doing the protecting. You wander back into the entryway, and look closer. You don’t think you see any blood, but the entire manor is too much of a disgusting wreck to know if there was any obvious struggle here. You turn your gaze back to the stairs, and decide to chance it.

    You put your foot on the first step of the right staircase, and slowly put your weight on it as you listen to the wood groan. It doesn’t break once you’re completely standing on the board, though, so you continue to make your way upwards. You repeat the slow and careful process until you make it to the top, where you see the right and left staircase are connected by a hallway. You sigh a relieved breath. You won’t have to do this again for the other staircase.

    You turn to continue on your path on the right side when you hear a barely noticeable buzzing coming from behind you. You freeze, trying to determine if it’s your imagination or Chanyeol making that noise with one of his “tools” from wherever he is. Jongdae’s head turning to the hall in the opposite direction in slight fear assures you that it it is in fact real, and not either of the others, who are both downstairs. You cautiously step across the short hallway and to the top of the left staircase, peeking your head around the corner into the respective hall.

    There’s a dim light coming from under the door at the end of the hall. It’s partially blocked, as if someone attempted to shove something behind the door to jam it closed. Your partner’s panicked whispers make lightly flinch.

    “There is absolutely no way this place isn’t haunted or cursed. This is almost exactly like that movie we watched two days ago.”

    You nod in agreement before creeping forward, while he tightens his grip on your arm with his. It’s now obvious that he is the one trying to protect you, with the way he places himself just barely in front of you. It prevents you from taking a whole step with your left foot, but you don’t mind at this moment. You’re going to take any and all protection and comfort you can get right now.

    You make it to the door, hunching over without realizing, and grab the handle to open. It unsurprisingly turns out to be locked.

    “Do you think we could break the door down? There’s obviously something important in there. It’s just like a video game...” you think aloud.

    “I can try.” Jongdae backs up a bit as he says this, preparing to ram into the door. When he finally works up the nerve to, he slams his side against the door, effectively crashing it open and sending him to the ground inside with a loud thud.

    “Are you alright?” You hurriedly ask, helping the groaning blonde off the ground.

    “Yea, I think I’m okay. Thank you for asking, Miss Y/n.”

    He rolls his right shoulder and stretches his right elbow a few times, his eyebrows furrowed and lips tight in a line. He gives up whatever he was trying to achieve with the movements with an exhale and clutches the injured limb closer to him.

    You hear Chanyeol’s distant voice asking if everyone is okay, since he heard a crash. You hear Kyungsoo’s voice respond, but can’t quite distinguish what he’s saying. You make the safe bet to yell that the crash was you and Jongdae, who then adds that everything is fine and not to worry. You finally turn to observe the room, and are met with Jongdae’s back blocking your sight. You’re about to ask why he’s standing so still and why he brushed off his own apparent injury like that, when you take a step to the side and see what he was blocking from you.

    Monitors. There’s nothing in this room except a wall of security monitors and a chair in front of them. What each one is showing has you both beginning to panic. How have none of you gotten injured in this hell-house?! You catch a glimpse of a particular monitor before taking a deep breath, preparing to scream. Kyungsoo needs to stop walking.  _Now_.

    “KYUNGSOO! STOP!”

    You see on a few of the screens that both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol immediately freeze, and you release a breath of relief. Jongdae jumped a bit away from you, and you don’t blame him. You just screamed in his ear with only a gasp as a warning. He then seems to catch sight of the specific monitors you’ve been intensively staring at for almost a minute now. No one has moved yet.

    “BACKTRACK TO THE ENTRYWAY!” you can hear the strain in Jongdae’s voice, “AND USE THE  _EXACT SAME PATH_  YOU TOOK TO GET WHERE YOU ARE! BOTH OF YOU!” his voice dissolves into coughing immediately after the last word. As his light hair suggests, he is usually soft spoken, and hasn’t raised his voice above a quiet speaking tone in the week or so that you’ve known him.

    Both men downstairs move quickly to the entryway, and with one quick glance back at the cameras, you shout another direction.

    “Use the right staircase!” You figure you don’t need to yell as loud anymore, considering they’re just down a hall and around the corner.

    “Stay in the middle of the hallway down here!” Jongdae says, his voice still hoarse from the yelling before, and coughs a few more times.

    “Pardon my language, but what the fuck is going on? Why the weird instructions?” Kyungsoo’s voice reaches you from the hall.

    “And why didn’t you just come downstairs if you didn’t trust us to get here on ou-” Chanyeol stops mid-sentence. They’re now inside the room, studying the wall of screens themselves.

    “This is why.” you simply say.

    On about half of the monitors, each screen is labeled as a different room. Dining room, living room, party area, ballroom, kitchen, dining area, bar, all six of the bedrooms, several bathrooms, a few large closets, and other rooms as well. Even the front gate, driveway, and the front porch all have cameras. All of them work well during the day, and have an option to switch to night vision using one of the three identical switches in front of you. These are relatively normal, for you anyway, it’s the other half that alerted you of danger.

    Each one of those screens are labeled with the same rooms and areas, but instead of showing the room through a camera, it’s showing a blueprint of the room. On these different blueprints, are different colored dots and lines. There’s a tattered paper labeled “Light Key” sitting conveniently on the desk in front of you, with neat cursive that reads “ _Burn this once you memorize it, R. – Jr_ ” The green cross that is glowing on the floor where Kyungsoo was about to step, means it triggers some kind of poison or acid trap there. You now notice that there is a red dot on the hatch that Chanyeol was attempting to unlock; he could have exploded.

    “What the fuck?” It must have finally clicked for Chanyeol that he could have just died.

    “I assumed you saw us through gaps in the floor or something of the like, not through cameras. Does anyone have ideas for why this is here?” Kyungsoo jumps in, also a bit nervous from the thought of almost being killed.

    “Well I assume they don’t want us in here, so I would like to leave. Let’s just not mess with this anymore.” You’re beginning to panic, and for good reason too, for once. You could have been gravely injured if you had decided to go near any other doorway in this hall! You don’t want to know what would have happened if you had touched any of the door handles, which are electrified according to the key.

    “We can’t leave! Especially not now! The fact someone put all of this here means there’s something they’re trying to hide!”

    “It isn’t safe to continue like this,” Kyungsoo tries to negotiate, “What if we take a single wrong step? I almost had acid shot at me! And you almost just blew up into pieces!”

    “What are we gonna do? Call the police? How are we going to explain why we were here in the first place? We still don’t have any real evidence that this is actually her doing! We’ll look like the bad guys if she ends up not being involved! The person signed as Junior, and that isn’t related to her that we know of, which is why we need to stay and investigate!”

    As they continue to shout at each other, the man who has been connected to your hip since yesterday grips onto the back of your shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping him here on this world. You look back towards him, and his face shows fear. Fear of this building, fear of whoever set all of this up, fear of what is going to happen now that you’re all witnesses to whatever this is. He meets your eyes, and you can tell you both want the same thing, and that’s to get out immediately.

    You look towards the fighting men and try to gain the courage to interrupt them. Then try to find a good place to jump in with your opinion- no, with your statement. You and Jongdae are getting out now, with or without them.

    “If we can find a way to disable all of these traps, then we’ll be in the clear to look around! I can find a way to do exactly that! Everything will be fi-”

    “Everything won’t be fine! Are you kidding me?! Do you have a death wish?! Because, if so, it’ll be granted very soon if we stay!” Now’s your chance.

   “ _I_ , for one,” you shout to get their attention, then return to a normal tone, “ _don’t_  have a death wish, so I’m taking Jongdae and I’m going back home. You two can do what you’d like, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t separate from each other at the very least. Please get home safely.”

    With that, you shakily step into the hallway and stay as close to the middle as possible with a full grown man clinging to your side. He might have been trying to protect you before– most likely because that’s what he was conditioned to do– but no one is protecting anybody now.

    You carefully step down the farther staircase, considering the other staircase crumbles into poisoned spikes, and leave this ridiculous place. You consider taking the car back home, but ultimately decide to leave it behind and walk. If Kyungsoo and Chanyeol choose to stay behind, they may need it to bring back some larger evidence or something. You just hope that they make it back home safe and sound.

    You quickly regret not changing out of your pajamas, since your current shoes aren’t doing much against the gravel under your feet. You’d think that a place that was supposed to be as nice as this used to be would have a paved road, but apparently not. It just  _wants_  to seem creepy and send bad vibes. Although, it would repel most adults that live around here, Chanyeol being the exception, apparently.

    The two of you reach the gate, and you pause to look behind you at the decaying building as your partner leaves your side. You notice that the car hasn’t been touched, and there’s no sign of any movement inside from what you can tell.

    “I guess they’re staying.”

    You turn back around and are met with Jongdae holding the gate open with a look that screams  _I just want to go home_. With a shaky sigh full of concern for the two left behind, you exit the premises and shuffle safely home.

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

    You’ve been doing some well-needed pruning to the flowers in your garden for over an hour now, with the hopes that you’ll eventually spot your car pulling out of that driveway in the distance from where you are. Jongdae hasn’t gone farther than fifteen feet away from you the entire time, and he remained even closer when your back was to him or vice versa. It’s progress from before, though. He didn’t even let go of your shirt until you shoved some shears into his hands, the same shears he’s currently using no more than four feet in front of you now. Although, with how badly you were shaking and how hard you were breathing, it’s no wonder he wouldn’t leave you side.

    If anyone else was this clingy to you, you’d probably go mad, even if it was Kyungsoo or Chanyeol. Yet, you don’t mind at all that Jongdae is hanging onto you like a sloth to a tree. In fact, one could go as far as to say that you almost like it. Something about him makes his presence extremely tolerable, even to a rather introverted person like yourself. That very man tears you from your thoughts with an excited shout.

    “They’re finally leaving! I can see the car moving!” The two of you abandon your posts and shears as you jog back to your house. His tone turns to uneasy, “I hope they’re okay, they seem to be speeding a bit.” This makes you pick up  _your_  speed just the slightest bit more.

    You finally make it to the back door, and almost trip on the small metal table in the sun room as you round the corner to get to the sliding glass doors to the house itself. You rush through the living room and ballroom, and fling the front door open at the same time you hear a car door shut.

    “We need an empty guest room, and now!” The only reason why Kyungsoo of all people would bark an order, is if something is very wrong. The panicked and rushed tone of his voice and the fact you can’t see Chanyeol isn’t helping your worries either. Kyungsoo notices your hesitation and makes a face that sreams  _go now!_

    You turn and dash upstairs without hesitation, going to the last door on the left in the second floor hallway and unlocking it. The entire room is a bit dusty, as it probably hasn’t been used at all since you moved in this house some years ago, but has been cleaned at least a few times. There’s a full-sized bed straight ahead, against the wall opposite to the door, and a piano against the wall to the left of it. Against the wall to your right is a nice loveseat, leaving barely enough moving space, which will be a problem in urgent times like this.

    “The piano has to get out of here completely. Help me, please.” You order Jongdae, who was right on your heels the entire time.

    Before he even has time to respond, you’re inside and ready to move the piano. With a single look downward, you change your plan.

    “Actually, do you think you run and grab some new blankets and sheets for the bed? This has wheels so I can get it myself.” you half-ask half-order Jongdae as you proceed to unlock the wheels to the large, wooden instrument. The bed looks too unsanitary, with the dust and whatever else has built up on it over the past several years, to trust having open wounds directly on it. Better safe than sorry.

    You don’t see or hear Jongdae acknowledge the order, but you hear heavy footsteps travelling down the hall quickly. You trust that he’ll take care of it.

    The piano miraculously fits through the wide doorway, and you hear Jongdae’s rushed and heavy footsteps as he runs back inside the room. After you move the piano out of the immediate way in the hall, you dart back into the room to help the blonde make the bed. You turn out to be only useful in tucking the sheets under the mattress from how bad your hands are shaking. If you could keep them steady and your head clear, you absolutely would. You’re not even quite panicking, only in a rush to get things done!

    “Watch out.” Chanyeol warns lowly. You jump away from the bed and pin yourself against the wall, relieved to see that both he and Kyungsoo appear to be unharmed.

    The severely underweight man with bright rainbow-colored hair that they’re carrying isn’t as lucky, though. The lack of real clothes and the amount of blood covering him doesn’t help the situation any.

    “Alright, I’d like for you guys to stay out while I take care of him.” This is Chanyeol’s nice way of saying “get out now”, and the three of you do exactly that. You catch a glimpse of Chanyeol digging through a different bag than earlier, before Jongdae gently closes the door behind him, since he was the last person out.

    “What happened to him?” the blonde whispers.

    Kyungsoo replies quickly, obviously expecting the question, “Come downstairs and I’ll tell you everything. This is going to take a while.”

    With that said, he begins to shuffle to one of the bathrooms on this level to wash the blood off of his arms and hands. With his back turned to you, Kyungsoo says to head downstairs first because he’s going to change out of his now bloodied clothes. You nod slowly and start walking towards the stairs. You’re about to step down the first step when Jongdae bumps into you, making you lose your balance and almost sending you tumbling down the stairs. Almost.

    He catches your waist, and flips you so you’re facing him so you’re more steady when he drags you a step or two away from the stairs. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you or take a step back until you’re standing steady on your own. Even then, his hand still remains lightly on your left shoulder, like he’s afraid that he’s doing something wrong. His face shows only pure concern for you as he speaks softly.

    “I’m so very sorry. Are you okay, Y/n? You aren’t hurt are you? I am  _so_  sorry…”

    It fully registers right then that he didn’t say  _Miss_  Y/n, and you lose track of the rest his words. You weren’t expecting him to drop that formality yet at all, considering it took literal years and endless amounts of encouragement for Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to break that small habit.

    “I’m okay, thank you for catching me. I was only surprised, you didn’t actually push me very hard.” you forgive him with a smile.

    It was partially a lie, you completely expected Jongdae to get close to you again, with how he’s been today. What you weren’t expecting was for him to appear that quickly, and it  _was_  the amount of force that almost granted you a free, painful trip to the bottom of the stairs. Although, Jongdae is obviously feeling extremely guilty, and you weren’t injured, so he doesn’t need to know that.

    “Why is Chanyeol fixing him up? Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?” he asks while walking down the stairs with you, “He looked pretty bad.”

    “Hospitals don’t take care of slaves like they do for people who aren’t. They only fix their fatal injuries and send them on their way, so they probably wouldn’t allow him medical attention, anyway. Plus, the owner needs to be present with the necessary paperwork in order to take a slave to the hospital for any reason. He’s not my slave, so I would only get in trouble for multiple reasons for bringing him in.”

    “I apologize if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I saw a collar on him, though. How do you know he’s a slave?” His tone sounded only genuine, no malice tinting it.

    “I don’t.” You sit on the living room couch, and he follows your lead, “But you saw what his condition was and how crazy his hair was. There’s no way they could be convinced that he isn’t a slave.”

    “He didn’t have a collar on in the cellar, and I didn’t see any around, either.” You whip your head to the sound of Kyungsoo’s voice behind you.

    “Cellar?” Jongdae scoots just an inch closer to you.

    “It’ll make more sense if I just start from the beginning.” He pauses to take a deep breath, then continues. “After the two of you left, Chanyeol and I argued for a few more minutes before coming to the decision to stay long enough to copy the blueprints and key from the monitor room. That alone took most of the time we were gone. Then we realized they could see us in the cameras, so Chanyeol worked on ‘corrupting the data’, as he called it, and that took a decent amount of the time as well.

    “We were about to climb in the car to leave, when Chanyeol claimed he saw something within the grass on the side of the house. I thought it was just him trying to weasel his way into staying a short while longer to look for clues, so I simply got in the car and ready to go. But then he shouted for me to go to him and quick. So I get out and see that he had unlocked a hatch in the ground that wasn’t marked on the blueprints at all. I was just happy that he wasn’t hurt, especially after earlier, but he then just hopped into it! Like, I don’t think he cared that I was worrying for his health at that moment! So I climb in after him. It was dark at first, but then Chanyeol found a light switch and flipped it on.

    “The sight was not good. I almost became sick right then and there. There were blood stains everywhere, and there was a table of clean tools and shackles that were attached to the walls and I was not okay with staying there any longer. It looked like it came straight out of a twisted horror film or something of the like. So we were then getting ready to leave because why would we want to stay there, when seemed to be no other obvious clues? But as I turned I saw an arm hanging from under the tablecloth on the table of tools. I lost it because I genuinely thought someone dismembered a body and shoved it under the table. Then I remembered, Suwo? Suho? Sulo? I can’t quite remember-”

    “You were right the second time. Suho.” you interrupt.

    “Ah, yes, Suho, thank you. Anyway, I simply left after that. I was about to get in the car for the final time when Chanyeol began yelling something about ‘He’s alive!” and to help him move the stranger. At the time, all I remember thinking was that he had just touched the arm of someone who could have been very well dead. But despite how much I didn’t want to, I went back down into the cellar, and he had already gotten that man out from under the table and I could see that he was barely breathing, but he was still alive, so I helped Chanyeol get him out of there, and we got blood all over the inside of your car and Chanyeol said something about how he used to stitch up himself and could help and I’m not sure what that was about but now we have a man who’s nearly dead in the manor and I don’t know what we should do in the case that he actually dies here-”

    “Kyungsoo.” you interrupt him again.

    He started out fine, but by the end of the story, he was rambling and talking so fast that you didn’t even know when he was taking the time to breathe. Although, with the way trembling man is now panting, he probably didn’t breathe through that last chunk. You continue after a pause to allow him to breathe.

    “He won’t die. I trust Chanyeol. I have no doubt, with the way he avoids telling us about his past, that Chanyeol at least somewhat knows what he’s doing up there.” You try to comfort while putting your arm around his shoulders in a side hug.

    Jongdae jumps in, “Did you shut the hatch?”

    “Yes. I did.” Kyungsoo breathes out.

    “You took care of the cameras, but they’re still going to know we were there when they return. We broke doors and  _stole a person_.”

    “They’re not going to return, because I’m calling the police.”

    “What?” Both men seem shocked that you would recommend this.

    “I’ll say that I was taking a stroll around the perimeter and saw the car or something, and that I was sure the house wasn’t owned by anyone, let alone up to regulation. It’s all true so…”

    “Isn’t that a lot of legal stuff though? Wouldn’t your father be mad because he’ll end up being tangled up in this? I know your stepmother will be livid because that looked like her car, so she’ll be the first to be questioned.” Jongdae tries to reason. It’s not good enough for you to not call, though.

    “What if the police discover that we were all there today? We may be given mercy and handed off to someone else if they decide we were forced to do this, but your punishment would be the prohibition of slaves, if by some miracle you weren’t given fines or jail time. What will happen to the three- the four of us? I assume you aren’t handing that man over to anyone until he has healed. Those people would kill him before going through the trouble of taking care of his wounds...” Kyungsoo has some very valid points.

    Taking away the ability to own slaves is a common punishment for slave owners, and despite how much you hate being grouped with the rest of those disgusting, perverted monsters, you’re legally a slave owner. If they found you guilty of anything at all, they could easily take away your privilege to owning slaves for any amount of time, no matter who your family is. Jongdae, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and the stranger would be transferred to the “outskirts”, as people like to call it. It’s where all of the unfortunate people go if they have failed the slave training required to be bought. That or if they are born into those areas as a slave, if they’re captured and are expected to begin slave training, or if they were taken from their owners by the law and need to be sent off to another Slave Exchange. That is the last thing you want for your makeshift family.

    You won’t let that happen, even if you had to travel there and break in yourself, you would keep them out of those horrible places.

    “We can’t just sit here, though.” It’s not really an argument, but that house can’t remain like that.

    “What about your stepfather?” Jongdae asks, his voice full of hope, “I know I said he wouldn’t want the hassle before, but what if this was dealt with privately? Is that even possible? He doesn’t seem to like your stepmother as much as you described he once did, so maybe he’d help after all.”

    “I don’t know. I mean, I guess I can call him, to at least get his opinion on this… predicament.”

    “That would most likely be the smartest choice of action at this point, Y/n.” Kyungsoo assures, much more calm than he was a few moments ago. Jongdae nods and hums in agreement.

    You take a breath and get up so you can call your stepfather in the privacy of your backyard. You dial his cell phone number and look up to the bright sky while it rings. You’d be surprised if it was close to noon right now. You shouldn’t even be awake yet with how you’ve been sleeping and all of this has already happened today. What happened to the easy days where you did nothing but sit around, play games, watch TV, and make art?

    “Hello? Y/n is everything okay?”

    “Uh, not quite, no.” you hesitantly admit. It hits you then that you never call him, even though he says time and time again that he enjoys chatting with you. You make a mental note to call him more often for casual (or as close to it as possible) chats.

    “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

    “Yes,  _I’m_  fine. I have some stuff I need to tell and show you in person, though, and it has to be soon.”

    “Yes, of course! What time? I can be there arou-”

    “Are you free right now?”

    A few long moments of silence fills the other end of the line before he spoke up again.

    “This is very serious, isn’t it? I can be there in around twenty minutes, should I have Lay stay in the car when I arrive?”

    “No, I trust him, plus it would be weird seeing you without him at this point. I just don’t trust anyone who could possibly relay this information to...”

    “…Oh. I think I understand now.”

    “I don’t have actual proof that it’s her, but it’s not really about her at the moment. I’ll show you and explain as much as I can when you get here.”

    “Alright, I’m calling Lay down right now, then I’ll be right over. See you very soon, hun.”

    “See you soon.” He hangs up. Now you just need something to do for the next twenty minutes or so until he gets here.

    You walk back into the house and hear the last little bit of Kyungsoo’s and Jongdae’s conversation.

    “…was there a loveseat and a piano in there, but no dresser or anything? Or maybe it’s the bed that’s not supposed to be in there.”

    “I don’t actually know,” replies Kyungsoo, “Y/n got this house from her older, more distant relatives, so they probably took some things out of that room.” You decide now is a good time to interrupt to tell them your father will be there soon.

    They both respond with nods, and invite you to the pointless conversation they started as a desperate attempt to distract themselves from worrying about Chanyeol and the injured man. You sit down next to Jongdae, figuring that he would probably get up and relocate himself closer to you if you didn’t, with the way he was looking at you. He leans almost unnoticeably towards you in acknowledgement.

    He has probably gotten so comfortable with you at such a fast rate compared to Kyungsoo and Chanyeol because they didn’t have reassurance that you wouldn’t all of a sudden change your mind and punish them. The blonde often hears the other two poke fun at you and playfully push you around and call you by just your first name, while the they didn’t have any of that. You hope that if this mystery man is a slave, and if do you decide to take care of him until he heals, that he will somehow trust you just as easily as Jongdae, but none of that is likely at all.

    You hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and it takes all of your self-control to not sprint to Chanyeol and bombard him with questions. You persevere, just like your two companions, and keep seated somewhat calmly while the familiar, silver-haired slave enters the room. All three of you invite the obviously stressed man to sit. Kyungsoo ends up running to the kitchen and grabbing a towel to place on the couch first, ordering Chanyeol to stay where he’s at for a moment. He’s still covered in blood from holding and fixing up the stranger upstairs.

    “I’m guessing you guys want to know how he’s doing?” Chanyeol attempts to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it almost immediately falls.

    “So...” Kyungsoo starts softly, “He’s not dead?”

    “Nope. He’s alive as of now. I think we got to him in time.” Everyone releases a breath of relief.

    Although, before anyone can ask for details, the doorbell signals your father’s and Lay’s arrival. You quickly rise up with Jongdae on your tail to go invite him inside, hearing Chanyeol saying something about washing up quickly as you open the door. There are no greetings or smiles as they enter like you were kind of hoping there would be, just so you could pretend that everything was okay at the moment. Once everyone has sat down somewhere in the living area, your stepfather wastes no time in getting to the point.

    “Tell me what was important enough to call me over like this.” You expected to hear some kind of hint of annoyance in his tone, but you could only find pure, genuine concern.

    “Okay,” you begin, “It will make more sense if I start from the beginning.”

    You proceed to tell your father everything that has happened this morning. From eating breakfast outside (you say Kyungsoo cooked it, though, just to be safe), to seeing the car, to why you broke in. Then you allowed Chanyeol and Kyungsoo to show their marked blueprints as you spoke of what it was like inside, then let them tell how they eventually found the stranger and took care of the cameras. He listened silently, completely serious as he nodded at the appropriate times.

    “Where is he now? Did he get help?” your father asks.

    Chanyeol gets your permission to speak. “Yes sir, he got help from me. He’s upstairs, unconscious. He has many deep slices on his back, as if he was whipped or something of the like. I washed him carefully, stitched him up, and put ointment and bandages on his wounds to hopefully prevent infections. Although, without any medical technology, I am unable to tell if has any internal injuries, which is highly probable.”

    “How can I trust that you did an adequate job?”

    “I’ve had plenty of practice on myself and other slaves when I was with my previous owner, sir.”

    You, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae all fall silent at that comment. He just revealed a tiny bit more of his past, and crushed any tiny bit of hope you had of that night you found him in the alley being the only night he was hurt like that. To your side, Jongdae’s tense gaze is burning holes in his shoes, and Kyungsoo looks like he just wants to give Chanyeol a hug. You want to as well.

    Whoever did those things to him and the others is extremely lucky that you don’t know his face or name.

    “Okay then. Can I see him?” You father’s gaze switches between you and Chanyeol, and you look to the tall slave, prompting him to answer, which he does.

    “Yes sir, you can all see him if you’d like,” He permits as he stands from the couch, “I must ask that it remains quiet, however. There’s a high probability that he has a concussion, and I had just finished fixing him up when you arrived.”

    Everyone follows him upstairs and down the wide hall, and into the room where the injured man lies. He opens the door, and there are a mixture of reactions.

    Kyungsoo’s reaction seems to be one of relief, most likely because he was the one who had to sit in the backseat with him and had the unfortunate time to study the injuries on him. Jongdae subtly grips onto your shirt again, careful to hide it from your father. Chanyeol seems almost proud of his handiwork, yet sympathetic for the sleeping man at the same time. Your father looks livid, surprisingly, and Lay looks more horrified than anything. Your father near-silently walks up to the occupied and stained bed, while you stay behind to study him from afar with the slaves.

    He’s laying on top of the comforter on his stomach, his pillow tucked nicely under his bandaged head, which is turned to the side. His entire torso is bandaged up, along with certain places on both of his arms and legs as well. You can see the lumps under all of the white wrap where Chanyeol had to give him stitches and covered them with gauze so they don’t rub against the rougher bandages protecting the injuries. The bed looks to be covered in blood, but you don’t worry about it much, that old set needed to be replaced, anyway.

    Your father abruptly looks up and glares directly toward you, causing you to flinch instinctively. You don’t know what you did, but you hope whatever it was wasn’t enough to warrant yelling at or hitting you.

    “I’m going to go home and search for him in the slave databases and find out if he belongs to anyone.” he breaks eye-contact as he begins to storm down the hall. He wasn’t mad at you after all, just at whoever did this to the underweight man. “Thank you for calling me first, the police would have made this a million harder, especially with where you found him and why you were there to begin with. I’ll get this taken care of as soon possible, and will bring this up with one of my coworkers if he does end up being a legal slave.” He stops at the doorway briefly, then turns to you. “You wouldn’t mind keeping him here until I get these things sorted, would you? I’ll be sure to get you the proper equipment to protect yourself with in case he turns out to be a delinquent of some kind.”

    You smile gently, “I wouldn’t mind at all, and that would be helpful. Thank you.”

    “Well, I hope your day gets better after all of this. I’ll take my leave. Stay safe.” Lay opens your door widely.

    “I hope you have a good day too, father. Sorry for adding to your already heavy workload.”

    “Nonsense! This is serious business and deserves my attention more than most things right now! I’ll tell you what I find, and I’ll send our doctor over to look at him as soon as possible. Now goodbye, child!” Your father waves as Lay closes the door behind them.

    Now that everything is pretty much out of your hands, you allow a sigh to leave your lips and let your shoulders become slightly less tense. You look back to where Jongdae, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo stand by the stairs. They all look like they’re at a loss of what to do now, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t show on you as well.

    Chanyeol quietly announces that he is going to do a more thorough inspection of the rainbow-haired stranger, to make sure there isn’t anything he missed that he could help with. Then he turns and drags himself up the stairs almost sluggishly. Kyungsoo blankly makes his way outside, probably to clean off the table. When you offer to help, he denies, saying he needs a distraction for a little while.

    You turn to Jongdae, who hasn’t moved from his spot by the stairs.

    “Should we pick up the shears we left outside earlier?” you ask somberly. He nods and leads the way outside, hesitating briefly to allow you to catch up to him.

    Today can definitely be marked down as being the most eventful and nerve-wrecking day you’ve ever had in your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I fully intended to have this up on time last Monday, and even had it almost completed, but some things popped up with family and I felt like I needed a quick break. 😅 I’m perfectly fine now! So don’t worry! 😊 I just got the motivation to complete the last 2500 words earlier today (after I remembered it wasn’t actually completed 😂). I didn't get to do a solid proof read, either, so please excuse any errors or confusing bits until I can get to it (probably later tomorrow). I hope you guys liked the chapter! The plot is finally getting to the better stuff, rather than just introductions and such. 🤣 Thank you for reading! 😄


	6. Use Caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Vague injury descriptions, Incorrect/Improper/Unrealistic recovery stuff ( _I tried my best at researching this stuff, but I’m absolutely not a doctor and have no plans to be one, so I honestly have no clue what I’m doing. If you’re a health person of some kind, hmu and yell at me how to fix my mistakes_ )

    The next three weeks are stressful, to say the least.

    Just as your father promised, he sends your family’s doctor your way, and he comes by the next morning. The doctor compliments Chanyeol’s work on the stitches and such, keeping in mind that the slave hasn’t had any education beyond being literate. (Chanyeol is a lot more than “just literate” thanks to you, but allowing a slave to have an education is illegal now, so the doctor doesn’t need to know this.) You all help get the stranger in the professional’s car, and head off to the hospital where he works, leaving Kyungsoo and Jongdae behind. While inside, where you follow the rainbow-haired man everywhere he went because of the irrational fear that they would just off him to save money and time, the doctor declares that the patient somehow miraculously has no internal bleeding. He does, however, have a concussion and is in a coma-like state.

    The doctor said he was in this state because of a mixture of things. The most obvious reasons being head trauma and blood loss. He did what he could for the head trauma, and gave a blood transfusion after taking a blood sample just to be sure. He claimed the sample was solely for paperwork and if he needs a collar, but you know better. If he isn’t a slave, they’ll redo his stitches and keep him in the hospital until it is safe for him to be up and walking around. If he turns out to be one like you all expect, they’ll send him away in the condition he is in now.

    He turns out to be a slave. The name he was previously registered under was Shon. You make a mental note to forget that piece of information and to never let anyone call him by that name.

    You fight to keep him at your manor, even though you don’t have an interest in keeping him permanently, or even beyond his full recovery. After convincing your father that it would be cheaper to keep him there than to send him away, and that it would be more convenient for the investigation if he was nearby, he agrees to keep him in the spare room.

    Your father has also somehow been taking care of this entire predicament without gathering any attention from the public. The day after you come home with  _not Shon_ , your father comes over with two investigators. One questions everyone in the house, and the other inspects the stranger’s injuries under the protective eye of Chanyeol and yourself. As you are questioned, the four of you tell the truth, but not all of it. You explain that you were concerned about the car being next door, so you entered the premises, but instead of saying “breaking and entering”, you all agree on just saying “went inside”. It’s not a lie, it’s just not specific as to  _how_  you went inside.

    You don’t know much about the investigation besides the fact that your father hasn’t mentioned any of this to Nylah, and that the team of investigators won’t be approaching her for as long as he can help it. She shouldn’t know anything about the investigation whatsoever. Neither of you want her to have any clue of what you’re doing, just in case she  _is_  guilty and tries to stop your progress. After a brief and somewhat vague explanation, which you believe gave enough for the team to make her the prime suspect anyway, they agree.

    After that first week of hospital visits and blood tests and thorough questioning, you all are exhausted. Although, there’s still an unconscious man in the house, and Chanyeol has been the one taking care of him this entire time, so you try to convince Chanyeol to teach you how to care for him so he can finally crash in his bed and sleep. It takes a day and a lot of bugging, but he finally relents.

    Apparently, people in this state can still drink small sips of liquids at a time, which is genuinely fantastic because the doctor didn’t even allow you to take home an IV or anything of the sort. Chanyeol shows you how he rolls him and holds him gently so he doesn’t open the stitches in case something happens to himself, and how to give him the smallest bits of water and juice. He shows you how to clean all of the wounds and how to replace the bandages afterwards. He also shows you how to care for the stitched areas, in consequence Jongdae too, since he was behind you at the time. The next day, he watches as you go through the routine for the few bandages that need to be changed, then leaves the room, declaring that he’s finally going to get some real sleep. You all laugh and bid him good night, or rather, good afternoon.

    The next day, the stranger wakes up. He’s barely aware of what’s happening and goes back into his deep slumber after a minute or two, but he wakes up. He’s alive and recovering, and there’s a lower chance than you expected that he may have lasting effects because of the injury, at least that’s what you and Chanyeol assume.

    Once your father hears that the slave has finally woken up, he starts personally looking around for someone who will take an injured slave who definitely has some form of PTSD and most likely other mental illnesses as well. You knew he wasn’t going to find anyone anytime soon, so when he calls you several days later to inform you that the search hasn’t been going well, you aren’t surprised. You even tell your father that you can take him in if he truly can’t find anyone suitable. Although, you’re aware that by saying that he probably stop looking altogether. The only reason he was looking in the first place was because of your insistence and so he get some kind of profit from the effort of these past weeks.

    Although, you slowly come to terms with keeping this poor man under your wing. Actually, you don’t think you could even let him go at this point. You’ve put so much effort and time into keeping this man alive that it would almost feel wrong to simply send him off to someone else who may continue to abuse him. You know that Chanyeol wouldn’t take kindly to him being just sent away just like that after all of this either. This man has accidentally worked his way into this family without even being conscious.

    For the next few days, you all take turns tending to the man’s injuries, and Chanyeol probably spends a few hours each day forcing water and juiced vegetables and fruits into his system one tiny sip at a time so he doesn’t die of dehydration or starvation before he can wake up. The rainbow-haired slave starts periodically waking up for a few minutes at a time before resting again. Each time it seems like he slowly becomes more and more aware of his surroundings, and he even shifts around a bit and tries to ask a question one evening, according to Kyungsoo. The day after, Chanyeol tries waking the man up. Apparently the stranger panicked for a few seconds before Chanyeol proved that he wasn’t the owner of the place, that he was a slave like him.

    It took more time and convincing than anyone would have liked, but your silver-haired slave managed to make him drink his first bit of water on his own, before putting him back to bed.

    It’s been three days since that moment, just over three weeks since you rescued this man, and you’re currently sitting on the floral loveseat in the his designated room with Jongdae leaning against your side in a deep sleep, his head on your shoulder. Jongdae’s general behavior towards you is once of the many things that have changed over the past weeks. It seemed like not long ago– which it wasn’t, since you’ve only known him for just over a month now– that he was always very formal and timid around you, and nearly panicked whenever he wouldn’t do something perfectly. Now he nearly panics whenever you’re not in the same room as him, and he goes searching for you according to the others. You don’t know what exactly changed his opinion of you in such a small time period, or why he sticks to you so diligently now, but you can’t bring yourself to complain.

    Unlike Chanyeol, who is usually very energetic and can be loud, and Kyungsoo, who is extremely introverted and wouldn’t ever cling to you like this, Jongdae remains rather quiet and calm. You even forget he’s there occasionally, which has lead to you accidentally running into him on multiple occasions. Despite that, he got protective of you when the investigators came over all those days ago, practically studied them with subtle glares and glued himself to your side. He rarely leaves your side anymore, actually, but he can also tell when you want to be alone and retreats to Chanyeol’s or Kyungsoo’s side instead. Either that or he goes to the injured man’s room to watch him alone, so the other two can take a break.

    Ever since the man you’re watching had to be calmed down by Chanyeol, you haven’t been in the room all that often, if at all. You all agreed that it wouldn’t be smart for you to be in the room during the time he wakes up ready to stay away and is perfectly coherent, since you aren’t a slave and probably would make him panic further by simply not having a collar on. Right now, though, Chanyeol is resting and Kyungsoo is making food downstairs, and Jongdae was in desperate need of a nap himself. No one has been resting well because Chanyeol wants someone in the room with this man at all times just in case he wakes up and starts panicking. He’d probably hurt himself more by trying to roll over or something, even though his stitched wounds are almost healed by now.

    A quiet groan pulls you from your thoughts and causes you to whip your head to the bed, where the blankets are moving a bit as well. You don’t know what to do! You watch as he stretches a small bit then freezes for a second. You’re quick to carefully make your presence known in hopes to keep him calm and on his stomach. You don’t want him to roll onto his back while Chanyeol isn’t here just in case.

    “Try not to roll on your back yet,” You see the way he tenses, maybe saying something was the wrong choice, “I don’t want anything to happen to your stitches.”

    He doesn’t move for several moments, and your afraid that he’s starting to freak out. You gently shrug the shoulder Jongdae’s resting on, trying to ease him out of sleep so he could maybe help. He only groans and buries himself further into you. That makes the already tense man somehow more tense, and it doesn’t look like he’s breathing regularly anymore.

    “Jongdae.” you whisper, shrugging again, “Jongdae, come on. Time to wake up. C’mon…”

    The blonde groans again, louder this time, but he leans away from you and stretches unsubtly before he freezes and his eyes blow out wide. You sigh, knowing what’s coming next.

    “I deeply apologi-”

    “Jongdae,” you interrupt, stern, but no aggression in your voice, “I don’t mind that you fell asleep leaning against me. You needed the rest, and you didn’t have a blanket. If I really cared I would have laid you down on the couch when you first leaned into me. Don’t worry about it.” You tack on a smile, just to be sure he understands that you truly do not care. He nods thoughtfully and melts back into the seat.

    “Note taken, Y/n. Is dinner done already?”

    “Not quite yet, but our guest finally woke up.”

    Jongdae sits up straight and his eyes widen once again, immediately finding the mess of a man on the still blood-stained bed. He inhales sharply. You follow the blonde’s gaze and find him lying tensely on his stomach, his arms folded under his torso, which is rising and falling with each very quick breath he takes, and shoulders hunched up to his jaw. His head is turned towards the two of you, and his fearful eyes quickly flicker between the two of you, and both of your necks.

    That’s your cue to leave before things get worse.

    “Hey Jongdae, I’m gonna go get Chanyeol real quick. Did you want to come or..?”

    The man in question nods and is about to get up, but he stills before he properly stands. His gaze falls downwards, then to the slave in the bed, then back to the ground. After a few, silent moments pass, you speak up again.

    “Jongdae..?”

    He blinks, “Actually, I think I’ll stay instead, if you don’t mind.” He sinks back down again, obviously knowing that you wouldn’t mind in the slightest. The stranger, on the other hand, looks horrified, and flickers his wide, disbelieving eyes between the two of you faster than before.

    “Alright.” You turn to trembling man, a pang of hurt and anger for him coursing through your heart at the sight, “I’m sure you have some questions he can answer, if you feel up to talking. I’m going to get Chanyeol so he can look over your wounds.” You put on the brightest smile you can muster, mainly so you can assure the now extremely confused man that nothing is wrong.

    You turn and leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind you, and release a breath of air you didn’t know you were holding. You walk down the hallway towards Chanyeol’s room, just now realising how tense you were in there. You hope you can show this man that there are still trustworthy people in this hellish society. You had already come to the conclusion that you’re going to keep this man in your care if you can help it, and you very well can, but seeing him awake and afraid like that just finalized that decision.

    You knock on Chanyeol’s door softly, then a little harder when he doesn’t answer. You end up cracking the door open enough to just stick your head in and peek inside. His room is set up almost identically to how Kyungsoo’s, Jongdae’s, and the stranger’s rooms are. The bed at the opposite end of the door, a dresser and clothes rack with his coats and suits hung on it against the left wall of the room, and a reclining chair, ottoman (he’s a bit too tall for the recliner alone), and end table on the right side.

    You silently make your way inside, thanks to the rug placed on the hardwood flooring, and kneel by Chanyeol’s form breathing steadily in his bed. You’ve learned to not be above him when you wake him up if at all possible, and to rather kneel on the side so you’re level with him. You lightly put your hand on his shoulder.

    “Chanyeol…” gently push his shoulder, “I’m sorry to wake you, but you’re kind of needed. Come on.” You shake his shoulder the slightest bit rougher.

    Chanyeol tenses and inhales sharply, then scrambles away from you a couple of inches and sits up with his entire upper body facing you with wild, yet blatantly exhausted eyes. It only takes a second for him to relax with a large puff of air. He closes his eyes and plops his back down into the bed with another puff of air. He snuggles more into the covers and rolls on his side to face you with a quiet, sleepy groan.

    “wha’s up?” he murmurs, already almost asleep again.

    “I‘m sorry for waking you when you need rest, but he’s awake, for good I think this time…”

    He takes a deep breath, then sluggishly sits back up. He runs a hand through his hair ungracefully and you take that as your cue to stand up and get out of his way. He swings his legs over the edge of his bed and stretches with a yawn. You don’t bat an eye when he stands and reveals that he’s only wearing underwear under his t-shirt. You’ve all accidentally seen each other in similar attire at some point in the past six years, and you all have decided that it’s just like seeing each other in bathing suits, so why freak out? Everyone in the world has torsos, and almost everyone has thighs. None of you see the reason behind getting all ashamed or bashful when people at beaches get away with wearing much less.

    “I doubt our guest is going to want to see you in that kind of attire, Chanyeol.” You pick up the pair of sweatpants that’s laying on his recliner and toss them to him.

    “Thanks.” He’s slowly waking up more as he quickly puts on the pants and makes his way towards the door.

    “You’re welcome.”

    “And I doubt our guest is going to want to see you and all your slave owner glory, Y/n. Wait for me in the kitchen?”

    “Planned on it. Jongdae’s hopefully doing damage control right now because, no, he didn’t seem to want to see me and all my slave owner glory.” You open the door and walk out, Chanyeol following closely behind.

    “You were on watch when he woke up?”

    “Jongdae was with me, so I thought it’d be okay for the time that Kyungsoo was downstairs making dinner. I think he’s okay, he was just very scared and strangely calm.”

    “I’ll go check on him” he says, already making his way to that back room, “I’ll meet you downstairs later.”

    “Stew’s for dinner tonight!” you call at the last second, gaining a quick thumbs up from Chanyeol as he enters the room, his attention already on the people inside.

     With a sigh, you turn and slowly make your way to the stairs, lost in thought. You don’t know how badly your presence affected that poor slave, but you hope he didn’t do anything rash in your absence. You don’t think Jongdae would have let him do anything especially concerning, but you aren’t sure how well he could calm someone down from a panic attack, if he ended up having one. All of the sudden uncertainty and concern for both him and your makeshift family almost has your head reeling.

    You can’t wait until your father’s investigators find whoever did this to that slave. Whoever did this to him even purposefully only left marks in places that could be easily hidden, the single exception being the injury on the back right of his head. Everything else can be masked with clothes, or simple make up. The familiar voice of Kyungsoo snaps you out of your thoughts. You’ve somehow made it to the kitchen without realizing it.

    “Hello, Y/n and- just you? I assume Jongdae watching our patient at the moment, then?”

    You nod, “Both him and Chanyeol. He’s awake.”

    “Oh, that’s relieving. Is he okay? Considering the circumstances, I mean.”

    “I think so. That’s what they’re checking now, if he’s okay. He didn’t like seeing me without a collar on.”

    “Oh. I hope he isn’t freaking out too much.”

    Several beats of silence pass before he speaks up again.

    “You don’t think they need help with anything, do you?”

    “There’s really only one way to find out, besides the collar walkie talkie thing. Is dinner almost done?”

    “Not quite. It still needs to be watched so it doesn’t bubble over.”

    You cross the kitchen and wordlessly take over his position in front of the pot. After some hesitation on Kyungsoo’s part, you nod towards the doorway in a silent order to go see them. He thanks you quickly and hurries out of the room.

    You end up staying in that same spot for nearly thirty minutes before you realize that Kyungsoo hadn’t started preparing any sides yet. He usually makes corn and baguette bread with this stew, so it shouldn’t be hard or take too long to finish, considering all of you are too lazy to make the bread from scratch, so he buys it premade in the bakery relatively nearby. You put water in a large pot and get it boiling, shucking and cleaning the corn while it heats up. By the time you’re done with that, you simply put the corn in the water. Time passes and you put the bread in the already-preheated oven, and by the time that’s become a pleasant golden brown, everything else is done too.

    You aren’t sure what the stranger can eat, although you assume corn on the cob is not on the list of good things to eat, so you fix him a small bowl of stew, taking care to get more liquid and smaller pieces, and a slice of bread, since you figure it’s safe to at least eat the soft middle. You fix larger and thicker servings for the other three men, then put all plates and bowls on a platter and into the oven, which is off but still warm.

    You make the decision to fix and eat your own meal before getting the others so they can have more time to do whatever it is they’re doing up there. That’s why you’re slightly confused when you find yourself at the rainbow-haired man’s assigned door, raising a hand to knock. You do so, and the room becomes quiet. You barely make out some shuffling and whispering through the door.

    “I don’t need to come in. I was just wondering if you guys were hungry, and what’s safe for- our guest to eat.” you almost stumble over what to call him. You can’t wait to get a name to a face.

    There are more murmurings and a bit more shuffling for several seconds until Chanyeol finally answers through the closed door.

    “He’s good to eat things that are soft and easy on the stomach right now, if memory serves me right. We’ll come down and bring our food up in a sec. Thank you for finishing it up, Y/n.”

    You nod an acknowledgement, then immediately realize that he can’t actually see the movement. You struggle with what to say for a brief moment before settling on “You’re welcome.”

    They’ll come down and get their food in a second, he said. Although, you have a feeling that one second will turn into another half hour or more. This is why you find yourself back in front of the door, this time with a tray of food and glasses of water. You move to set the tray on the ground, so you can knock and leave so the injured man doesn’t have to see you, but you only make it a few inches lower than where you were holding it originally when you realize that this won’t work at all. You sigh in defeat, and gently kick the door twice in lieu of knocking. This time you don’t hesitate to speak.

    “I was worried you guys weren’t going to eat any time soon so I brought a tray of food and was going to leave on the ground so I wouldn’t have to come in, but I just discovered that that won’t work.”

    You take a step back when you hear the door handle turn. Chanyeol stands in the small opening of the door with an unreadable expression on his face. He must see something in your gaze or stance because it melts away with a sigh and slight shake of the head. He meets your eyes with the tinest smile and opens the door wider so he can step through. You step to the side, subconsciously staying out of the stranger’s line of sight. Chanyeol grabs three water cups and enters the room. You hear three clinks of glass against polished wood (they must have moved someone’s end table in there), then some footsteps headed your way. Jongdae peeks his head out.

    “Chanyeol’s clearing a spot for the tray, if you wanted to come set it inside.”

    “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable by being in there.” you mumble.

    He glances in the room, then back at you. “I think he’ll be okay. He just has to see with his own eyes that you won’t hurt him, like the three of us had to.”

    Jongdae grabs the last glass of water before you can protest and silently gestures for you to follow him. You comply, and accidentally meet the stranger’s eyes for half a moment before looking away. He’s lying on his back, propped up by several pillows, which they must have gotten from other rooms as well. He looks tired, weak, and hungry, and you wish you could make him better with a quick snap of your fingers.

    You put the tray down on the end table as carefully as you can. You can feel everybody’s stares as you make sure the food won’t spill and the tray won’t topple over. As soon as it’s set down and steady, you backtrack to the door, grabbing the handle to close it behind you. You hesitate at the doorway, feeling everyone’s stares on your back. Without making eye contact with anybody, you turn your head into the room and give a weak reason for your hasty departure.

    “I should go down and eat before everything gets much colder. I apologize for intruding like this. Have a good evening.”

    You shut the door behind you quickly but softly and head back to the kitchen. You fix yourself a helping of food, but don’t bother moving to the dinner table to eat, electing to instead eat at the counter quickly. You’re washing your dishes when a fleeting thought of your father invades your mind. He would want to know that the stranger’s awake for good, even if the slave isn’t ready to be confronted any time soon.

    You turn back around and glide down the ballroom and up the stairs to where your phone is charging upstairs. You dial his number and wait for him to pick up or not as you travel back to the kitchen to finish what you were doing. For the first time in a long while, he picks up his phone within the first three rings. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d always be available to you from then on.

    “Hello? Y/n, dear?” Your father sounds exhausted, stressed, and worried.

    “Hello, father. You told me to call when the slave wakes up and remains awake, so that’s what I’m doing.”

    “He’s up? He’s healthy? Does he have any infections?”

    “He’s physically okay as far as we can tell, but he’s completely terrified of me and presumably anyone who doesn’t wear a collar, so I don’t want to try to talk to him and scare him into refusing to give us any information. He won’t be fit for interrogations of any kind for a long while, especially from anyone who isn’t a slave. I have Jongdae, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo in his room trying to keep him calm as we speak.”

    “Whoever owned him last will pay big money for this...”

    “So it hasn’t been proven that it was mother yet?”

    “No, but that can change as soon as that slave is ready to tell us who tortured him like that.”

    “This might sound judgmental, but I mean it only out of curiosity, but why are you going this far for a slave?” You know exactly why  _you’re_  helping him, but why would someone like your father help him?

    “Well, it’s a business. If I let one of my customers or employees abuse one of their privileges and destroy the goods, then the others may start doing so as well. If everyone is abusing their positions of power, then the business and its owners suffer. I am one of the business owners, the ability to own one is their privilege, and slaves are the goods. I’m going to find out who did this and punish them so others don’t think they can get away with this and follow the culprit’s lead, which would ruin the market for slaves. There could be less slaves to buy because they are all dying, that or the name of the Emberline's Slave Exchange could be tarnished for lack of quality.” He recites as if it should have been common knowledge.

    You force out a laugh and you hope it doesn’t sound as fake as you think it does. You don’t know exactly what you were expecting. Maybe something even slightly more sentimental and caring towards the slave himself, and not just because he’s a small part of a large business. Your head droops in disappointment and irritation.

    “Yes, of course. We wouldn’t want that happening.”

    “Well, anyways, thank you for telling me that the slave is now awake for good. I’m going to get off so I can relay that information to my investigators and let them decide what the best course of action is. Have a lovely evening, dear!” The phone line cuts off after you bid him goodbye, letting you know he hung up.

    “Business… It’s all just a business to them.” you grumble to yourself, needing to get this off of your chest and knowing no one’s around to listen to your hushed rant. “I swear… Why don’t people understand that slaves are human too. It’s not even legal for  _animals_  get treated this badly. What the actual hell.” You stomp off to the kitchen, deciding that putting the leftover food away would be a good use of time and energy. “I mean, is it really that wrong to admit ‘Oh hey, look at that. Slaves have feelings too. Maybe we should, I dunno, treat them with more respect? Wow! What concept!’ I swear, I’m going to kill every single person who believes they have the right to dictate other people’s lives. I thought this is why we have a democracy, so that this wouldn’t be possible.”

    You stop mumbling to groan loudly when you open the fridge and see no room for the rest of the food to be put. While you have been distracting yourself by throwing yourself into your art, Kyungsoo has been getting by through cooking. It’s going to be leftovers for a few days with the amount of food in here. You get to work on rearranging the fridge, your rant only pausing for a moment.

    “This is so dumb. Just so idiotic. I’d like to see how they all fare with being a slave. I bet they’d all be dark blue and red heads. They’d never get bought so they’d be sent to the outskirts where they’re left to die. Maybe that would get them to finally see the flaws in their system. I am so very done with those ‘businessmen’. Ah! Finally!” You cry out in joy when you finally find a way to rearrange stuff so there’s more space.

    You shove tonight’s meal into the cramped space and turn around with a deep sigh to finally head up to your art room. Instead, you stopped in your tracks once you register four familiar men lined up by the entrance, three of them watching you with amused eyes, and one of them holding a tray of dishes. Jongdae is quick to bounce over the short distance to you and resume his usual position at your hip. Chanyeol squeezes the rainbow-haired man’s shoulder while Kyungsoo puts the tray of dirty dishes into the sink and proceeds to clean out the fridge. You’d pout at him if you weren’t so stiff. You  _just_  moved stuff around to make everything all fit, and he knows it. You were proud of that little accomplishment.

    “See Sehun, she’s not like any of the other slave owners.” Chanyeol assures gently, his hand now rubbing the slightly shorter man’s upper back comfortingly.

    “Sehun? Is that your preferred name?” you ask.

    He drops his head and folds his hands together before speaking gravelly. “Yes, ma’am. Unless you’d like to call me something else.”

    “As long as you don’t mind, I’ll just call you Sehun.” you smile, hoping it will make the atmosphere less tense. It barely works. He nods, head still down.

    “May I ask a question?” You almost couldn’t hear him with how quiet he spoke.

    “You don’t need to ask permission to speak when it’s just the five of us present, I don’t mind in the slightest.” You make a point to smile sweetly, and a little easier to do now.

    “I sincerely apologize, m’lady.” You hate the way “m’lady” sounds, but you don’t want to overwhelm him with requests when he’s this vulnerable. “I was wondering why you are giving me medical attention and a place to stay if I’m not owned by you. Chanyeol advised that I ask you this myself.”

    “I’m helping you because you’re a person, just like the rest of us, and you didn’t deserve the treatment you got in your previous households. You’re a person with feelings that just had a bad hand at the game of life, and you shouldn’t be punished for it.”

    “She also said that the government officials wouldn’t last a week as a slave before caving and changing the laws,” Chanyeol adds in half-teasingly, “and I’m pretty sure only people who sympathize with us would say that.”

    “Wait. How much of my rant did you hear?”

    Jongdae answers. “We were walking through the ballroom when you said goodbye to whom I assume was your father? You don’t really talk to anyone else besides us, that I know of.”

    “So you heard that entire thing?” That’s kind of embarrassing, but it may be helpful enough to convince Sehun that you truly have no ill intentions.

    “Yes, I believe we did.” Kyungsoo adds, now throwing any old food away.

    “I wasn’t expecting to have an audience to that.” You sit at one of the stools at the bar-like thing in the center of the room. It  _would_  be a small bar, if you had put alcohol in the diamond slots instead of the assortment of tea and coffee containers that are currently in them. “I would’ve skipped over the multiple threats to the government and ESE had I known that you guys were listening.”

    “That was the best part though!” The very familiar blonde pops into the stool next to yours and scoots just an inch closer to you; exactly as expected from him at this point. “You rarely speak negatively of people and companies like that. It was refreshing to hear, to me at least.”

    You don’t quite know how to respond to that, but it seems that you don’t need to after all because your phone rings from where it was left by the sink. Kyungsoo looks at who is calling for you.

    “It’s your father.”

    “Again?” You try to keep the disappointment from leaking into your voice, but ultimately can’t. He did not impress you with his reasoning for helping Sehun, even if it was completely normal for someone in his position, sadly.

    You get up from your stool, Jongdae’s arm brushing against yours in the process, and take the phone from the Kyungsoo. You barely hesitate before answering it, leaning against the sink while you greet him.

    “Hello again?”

    “Y/n! You said you were interested in keeping him the other day? The slave I mean. You would have to retest him in almost every area so he’s colored correctly and such, but you seem to have a certain way with slaves. Plus you’ve seemed to have grown out of your ‘no slaves’ phase, and you have put up with corrupt and new slaves before, so maybe it’s time for another challenge like this one? If you accept, I can also sign you up for a program that works with fixing damaged slaves, since you seem to have a certain charm with them. What do you say?”

    You called it. He’s trying to get you to keep Sehun. You’ve already decided that you’re going to keep him, but your father doesn’t need to know that, and if he thinks you’re easy to persuade, then he’ll come to you for any slave that he doesn’t want to deal with. While that isn’t quite a problem to you– you wouldn’t mind restoring faith and hope within some slaves– it’s still something you’re not interested in. You don’t want to help these people, then become exactly who you’re trying not to be by handing them off to someone else who will destroy them again. If you’re going to help them, you’re going to keep them under your protection indefinitely, which won’t be possible if you accept to enter into that rehabilitation program without arousing suspicion.

    Looking over to Jongdae, who definitely heard what your father said with how close he’s sitting to you, you silently ask him to check with Sehun on the topic. He somehow gets the message and steps over to the man in question. You realize you left your father hanging, so you’re quick to fill the silence through the power of lies and stalling.

    “Uh, let me go check on him. I think I can sneak in his room without waking him up and making him panic.”

    “I thought your other slaves were talking to him?”

    “They came down as we were hanging up earlier to tell me that they got him to sleep and are now preparing dinner for me.”

    “Ah.”

    You look over to where Chanyeol and Jongdae are huddled on the center bar a few feet away, discussing something to Sehun in hushed voices. You need to stall for more time, so you bring up the first relevant topic you can think of.

    “Earlier, when you said I had a charm with damaged slaves, that’s because I don’t only check for physical hindrances like most do. I also check for mental ones.”

    “Okay.” he states, urging you to continue. You internally huff in anger, why can’t he just build upon this himself like he normally would?

    “So… I’ve only spoke to him once, and he was terrified of me, which means he needs comforting and reassurance that I won’t hurt him. That’s the difference between me and those ‘slave rehabilitators’.”

    “I understand that’s what makes you different, but you shouldn’t have to worry about their comfort and self esteem. He should be grovelling at your feet for helping him after his experiences with previous owner.”

    “No, that’s not exactly how it is. That’s not how PTSD or anxiety or whatever else works with us, so that’s not how it works for them, either.” You really don’t want to talk about this anymore.

    “But you shouldn’t care is my point. They’re just products, things that are disposable. You don’t have any special relationships with those slaves, do you?”

    “No! Absolutely not!” You were a bit too quick to deny that, and a bit too enthusiastic about making sure he believed your words, too.

    You walk hastily out of the room, not wanting Sehun to hear any lies you spew to your father and have him doubt you more than he already does. You take a seat on a living room couch as the older man finally replies.

    “Are you sure? Because this whole fiasco could be you trying to ruin your mother’s name instead of the other way around, and I will not have that-.”

    “Father.” you deadpan, “I promise that there’s nothing like that. I am aware that it is now illegal to have a relationship of any kind with a slave.” Now that you’re out of earshot from Sehun, you let the lies tumble from your lips without hesitance. “I have just learned over time that if my slaves are comfortable and trust me, then they question me much less and follow orders much more enthusiastically. It’s just like you said earlier, this is a business, but think at a much smaller scale this time. The slave owner is the boss, and the slaves are the employees. If the workers don’t like or trust the boss very much, then they won’t be as happy or tolerant of their orders and tasks. Although, if the employees like and respect the manager, they’re more likely to complete tasks without complaints, especially if they are comfortable with their environment as well. That’s what I’ve learned in my time, anyway.”

    Every bit of what you said, you believe is true. Your few slaves  _do_  voluntarily work more frequently than the average slave, and are much happier than any others you’ve ever seen in your lifetime. You just told him the very basics of your views and chose words that have more negative connotations to make it seem like you only cared about their work efficiency. There’s a long silence where you assume your father is processing what you just told him.

    “Then why do you only have three slaves? Why only have two for the longest time if you knew that having more would be convenient? Especially with this breakthrough you’ve apparently had.”

    “Cheaper to maintain. I live alone and have a smaller property than most people of our financial class, so I don’t need many. But I’m beginning to realize the convenience of having more. I surely can’t live off of only your income forever, but I don’t make much as of now, so I will buy more slaves as I produce more of my own income.” You sound like a robot, but it seems to get your father off your back faster. He sighs a tiny breath of relief before saying anything.

    “I shouldn’t have doubted you. Now that I think about it, you don’t even like the friends you have, why would you be close to your  _slaves_  of all things!” Your father’s signature laugh fills the phone, and you force yourself to laugh along. This laugh thankfully sounds much more genuine than the one you gave him before, but only because you’re relieved from how close you came to being found out, only to not have been.

    “I’m glad we got that cleared up! The last thing I want you thinking is  _that_  of all things.”

    Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jongdae tip-toeing through the door leading to the dining room. He speed-walks to you after he registers your welcoming smile. He leans in to whisper softly to you, obviously not wanting your father to hear his words.

   “ _He’s okay with staying here._ ”

    You hold the phone away from you a bit so you can respond quietly without being heard by the man on the other end of the phone call.

    “ _Is he sure?_ ”

    “ _Not at all, but he’s willing to try because of the good things we keep saying about you_.”

    You nod a response to Jongdae as you finally respond to your dad, “Back to your question from earlier. Yeah, I think I’ll keep him.”

    “Really?” He seems hopeful, most likely because he now has one less thing to do now.

    “Really. From what my slaves have been telling me, he just needs a bit of work to get past the trauma his previous owner gave him, then he’ll be completely loyal and trustworthy. Besides, you even said it’d be good skills to have in the future, dealing with more troublesome slaves like this. Although, I am not so keen on applying for the slave restoration, but I wouldn’t be completely against taking in some “hopeless causes” I know you come across occasionally at your personal request.”

    Your tone makes it seem like you’re smiling, but the truth is that you’re currently squeezing Jongdae’s wrist in an attempt to assure him you’re lying, with a cringe plastered on your face. You’ve only owned Jongdae for barely a month, he surely has some doubts about you still, despite the way he clings to you like a sloth to a tree. The way Jongdae is squeezing your wrist back with a tiny smile, though, may be proof otherwise.

    “Alright then. I’ll have the appropriate paperwork sent to your house as soon as possible. Just send it back to me when you’re done, preferably by tomorrow afternoon. I have to look over a good chunk of the receipts and such, anyway, so there’s no use in submitting it to one of the desk workers.”

    “Okay. Thank you very much.”

    “You’re very welcome. Now, I’m going to go prepare that paperwork. Have a lovely night, Y/n.”

    “You as well.” You hang up.

    You look to Jongdae after releasing his wrist from your grip. He smiles at you in an obvious attempt at comfort, it works just enough to make you smile back the tiniest bit. The two of you walk back through the dining room and into the kitchen side by side, plopping down on the stools you occupied earlier in the same manner. You rest your elbows on the bar top, your head in your hands. You couldn’t fool even a blind man into thinking you’re awake and alert right now.

    After not sleeping well for the past few weeks for multiple different reasons, you’ve become unbelievably tired. You want nothing more than to just curl up in bed and forget the world and all of the bad people in it, but you can’t. You can’t sleep right now because someone, you assume Lay, will be coming with the paperwork for Sehun. You can’t forget the horrible people’s existence because they practically control your life and literally control the lives of the other four men in the room. You can dream, though. That’s what sleep is supposed to be for; dreaming of the things you can’t achieve. Although, even that has been backfiring more recently, your dreams being nightmares with all of your worries and stress of being found out and subdued in the real world.

    “You okay, Y/n?”

    You snap your head up at Chanyeol’s voice.

    “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Probably. I’m just worried my stepmother is going to find out about all of this.” You turn your tired gaze to Sehun with an attempt of a small smile. He shrinks under that, but his gaze continues to flicker between your face and the floor. “The paperwork for you to stay under my care is coming in tonight, and my stepfather told me to have it back to him by tomorrow afternoon, and there’s also a few things I’d like to clarify with you before submitting them. Would you rather get it done and over with tonight? Or take a break and complete it tomorrow morning after breakfast?”

    “Whenever you prefer, m’lady.”

    You contemplate not stressing him out any further by just deciding to do it in the morning for him, but that doesn’t sit right with you. You’re trying to prove to Sehun that he has at least some say in what happens in his life. Choosing something for him, even something as small as this, will do nothing to help him realize this, and even less to show him that you  _want_  him to voice his opinions. You need him to understand.

    “I prefer completing this when you feel most comfortable doing it,” you urge on gently, “I know other slave owners don’t care about your opinions and preferences, but I do. Honestly, I don’t really like thinking of myself as a slave owner, because these guys are my family, and eventually you can be too, if you’ll allow it.”

    Sehun stiffens up at that last bit, and you knew he probably would have. You were aware that saying that was risky, and he seems to be taking it better than you expected. He seems to get a hold of himself, and drops his head to fully look down at his feet, his hair drooping in front of his eyes. His shoulders hunch up just a tad, and he begins fidgeting with his fingers. Chanyeol replaces his hand on Sehun’s back as a silent show of support and encouragement.

    He mumbles something barely audible under his breath, but you think you catch something that sounds like “tonight” somewhere.

   “You’d rather do it tonight?”

    He nods and whispers, “Yes please, m’lady.”

    “Okay. And don’t feel pressured to call me ‘m’lady’ or ‘madam’ or something of the sort, I’m okay with you calling me by my first name, only if you’d like.”

    He nods again, this time making eye contact with you. It was only held for less than a second, but that split second gives you hope that you can rekindle the human within that shell of a slave.

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

    The lovely conversation you were having with Jongdae while painting in the afternoon light of the living room gets cut short by the sound of the doorbell.

    After your little talk with Sehun earlier, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo took him back upstairs since it was clearly that he’s still extremely uncomfortable with being around you. You were actually the one to suggest him going up and taking a break or a nap. You couldn’t take the tense atmosphere that he was involuntarily causing. It wasn’t his fault, you could tell that he was really trying his best, the fact he was down here with you at all proved that much. It didn’t make the extended silence less uncomfortable, though.

    Jongdae opens the front door to reveal Suho with some papers.

    “Oh! Hello, Suho!” you greet, “You can come in if you’d like.”

    You’ve only seen him once before, but you trust him nonetheless. He seemed to get along with Jongdae while you were distracting your mother so they could rest from the pointless cleaning.

    “Thank you, Ma’am.” he steps just inside, “Here’s the paperwork your father sent me to give you.”

    “Thank you very much. I’m gonna go get this done right now, if you don’t mind waiting here for a bit. Unless my mother wants you home?”

    “She went out with some friends tonight, and I’m here on your father’s orders, so she won’t miss me. He also informed me that there might be some questions you’d like to ask me while I was here?”

    “Oh. Okay then.” You assume your father wants you to interrogate him a bit while he’s separated from your mother, since this opportunity most likely won’t appear again for a while. You turn to Jongdae after taking the papers from Suho, “Chen, can you please show him to the living room while you guys are waiting for me?”

    “Of course, Miss Y/n.” He nods knowingly at you. He must trust Suho quite a bit as well, since he called you “Miss Y/n” rather than “M’lady” or “Ma’am”.

    As you make your way up the stairs, Jongdae silently leads Suho across your small ballroom to your living room. You reach the top of the stairs with papers in hand, and continue down the hallway to Sehun’s door. You knock lightly, and the door is immediately opened by Kyungsoo. You simply hold up the papers and step inside when he moves and holds the door open wider. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo take the hint and leave the room, the taller man more hesitant than the other. The door gets shut behind them, leaving you and Sehun, who is obviously trying very hard to keep himself from completely panicking, alone together for the first time.

    “I’m just going to ask a few questions about yourself so I can fill this out accurately, is that okay? If you don’t feel comfortable answering a question, just tell me so. I won’t mind at all, I promise.” You watch as Sehun takes a deep breath, but it seems to do nothing for his nerves because he repeats the motion a few more times before he finally responds.

    “Understood, Miss- M- Mistress.”

    You can’t help but give an encouraging smile. It was a good attempt as saying “Miss Y/n”, and you’re glad he at least feels comfortable enough to change his mind about granting your earlier request. He’s putting in a lot of effort, and you can see it. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s all of the others’ doing– actually, you’re pretty positive that that’s exactly what it is– but you can’t ignore his bravery for trying after his previous experiences with owners. Especially when he was just in that basement less than a month ago.

    “Okay, so I generally like to use different names to address you guys while it’s just us and while other people are around, just so you know to act formal and stuff so you don’t accidentally get in trouble. Is there a nickname or something you’d like me to call you in those times? If not that’s perfectly fine.”

     “Um... I- I am not particularly fond with having a separate name. I- uh…” He looks up using his eyes, and seems almost relieved to see you waiting with a patient smile. He clears his throat quietly “I don’t have good memories with having separate names.”

    “That’s okay. Chanyeol doesn’t have one for the same reason, I think. I’ve known him for years and he still hasn’t told me what exactly happened, and I don’t mind in the slightest that he hasn’t.” You make the choice to share a bit about the silver-haired man on a whim, hoping that Sehun will feel more at ease knowing he isn’t the only one without a separate name. “When is your birthday?”

    “April twelfth.”

    “What year?” He recites the year he was born, and after doing some quick math in your head, you determine that he is twenty-three years old.

    “It’s okay if you can’t answer this next question. It isn’t essential to finishing this, but what was the name of the woman who owned you last?” You hold your breath, waiting for her name to leave his lips.

    “I have never been owned by a woman before, and the most recent men that have owned me have all been single, as far as I know...”

     _What?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again! Sorry it took forever to get this chapter out, I got super busy making paintings for pretty much all of my family for Christmas. When I wasn’t doing that, I was doing Art or Creative Writing homework from school... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this very late update! Happy Holidays to everyone! See you in the next chapter in a few days!


	7. Welcome to the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Verbal argument, Harsh and vulgar insults, Brief mentioning of torture

    “I’ve never been owned by a woman before, but one of the first men who owned me was married. Although I haven’t seen him in years.”

   “What?” Maybe your mother had something to do with next

   “Umm…” Sehun whimpers. He looks like he’s about to break down again, and he was  _just_  starting to get less tense.

   “Has there been any other slaves that you’ve noticed?” Maybe he saw Suho, but not your mother.

   He tries to speak, but quickly gives up and shakes his head instead.

   You don’t understand. The four of you saw your mother’s car driving away from that house, and the chances of someone else having that car were very low. Apparently those chances weren’t as low as you thought, or maybe they were and lady luck simply gave a big old “fuck you” to you all and it is just a coincidence despite the probability. You, however, don’t think it could be a simple coincidence, could it? Unless your mother was being framed, but this seems like something she could allow herself to do...

   Meanwhile, Sehun has gone completely rigid where he’s sitting on his bed, and it’s obvious how much he’s trying to hold back his panic. You need to calm him down and reassure he isn’t in trouble before trying to logic this whole situation out, and you need to calm him fast.

   “I’m sorry for going all serious on you. We’re just trying to figure out who did this to you and punish them, but our main-... Pretty much our only suspect we had was an older woman…”

   “I apologize for not bei-”

   “There’s no reason for you to apologize, Sehun,” you interrupt softly, “None of this is your fault. If anything, you helped me realize that this whole thing might be bigger than we originally thought. Anyway, I only have a couple more easy questions left, then I can get out of your hair and let you rest or talk to the others if you’d like.”

   Sehun nods an acknowledgement, and you continue with the questions. You do the rest of the paperwork while sitting on his (rather ugly) floral loveseat, so if you have any questions, he’s right there and can answer them. You chatted for short amounts of time as well. It was only simple small talk initiated by you, really, but he was slowly growing less tense around you and that was your goal. You discover that he doesn’t really like to talk unless he feels like it’s necessary to get his point across during your trails of small talk. You make sure he knows that you don’t need him to speak if he doesn’t want to, the exception being acknowledgements and permission asking during the rare times that people are over at the house or when you leave the house.

   By the time you actually finish all of the papers necessary to own Sehun 45 minutes later, he’s still sitting on his small, old, wooden bed (you make a note to buy a better one for him), but now he’s sitting against the back of it, careful of his stitches, and freely looking around the room.

   “Alright, so these are finally done,” you successfully grab his attention, and mentally celebrate when Sehun looks in your direction before down to his feet, “And now I was wondering if you wanted to keep your hair the way it is or if you wanted to get retested and have it recolored?” There was a few moments of silence while you waited for him  to come up with an answer of some kind.

   “I was informed that my hair is currently bright rainbow?” Sehun meekly asks.

   “Yea, it kind of is. Have you looked in a mirror recently?” He shakes his head. “Not even in the bathroom mirror earlier?” You didn’t mean for it to sound so invasive. It sounded different in your head, but now it’s out there in the open, there’s not much you can do to take it back or correct it. It’s too much effort to even try, and you’d probably end up making it sound worse than it already does. He seems to think for a moment or two before answering hesitantly.

   “I purposefully, evaded the mirror out of... habit.” He is growing tense again, but before you can move on and hopefully put him more at ease, he goes on to explain. “The man who, kept me in the cellar never allowed me to look into mirrors or anything else reflective. I am not sure why.”

   You’re not sure what to say or do in this situation, years of secluding yourself in your house has greatly impaired your social skills. Therefore, you do one of the two things you know how to do; change the topic abruptly, and continue the previous topic as if the current one wasn’t brought up at all.

   “Did you want to see what you look like now?”

   His eyes never leave his feet, but you can still see his facial expressions. After minute of silence and no indication that Sehun is going to answer anytime soon, you speak up just loud enough so he can hear. Well, you’re pretty sure he hears you, anyway, you don’t really have the guts to look him in the face as you say this right now.

   “I know you haven’t been here very long at all, but I want you to know that you’re safe here. I know it’s probably not something you’re used to hearing, and I know it will take awhile for you to believe me, and even longer to trust me, but you can talk when you want and  _look in a mirror_  without anything happening to you. I actually encourage you to do those things.”

   When you look up at Sehun, he’s staring at you with an awed expression mixed with his usual anxious appearance. His head immediately drops once more, and you make a note to not stare at him, hover near him without a purpose, or look him in the eye. When people do those things to you, it tends to make you uncomfortable, so it could be the same for him.

   You slowly stand up and place the paperwork you’re holding where you were just sitting. The nervous man follows the movement with his eyes, but never moves his head. He only moves it when you step in front of him and silently offer your hand to him. You almost think better of it as you process his half-astonished half-panicked look, but ultimately commit to your action.

   “Come on, let’s go take a look.” you calmly encourage with a small smile.

   The shock and fear never leave his face, but he he must find something in your gaze because he breaks eye contact with you and slowly stands up himself. It’s a rejection to your hand, but an offering to follow you to wherever it is you’re planning to go. A tiny (and likely conditioned from his years of “training” and abuse) show of trust. You drop your hand and step back, give him a smile, and turn to open the door. You’re a bit surprised to find Jongdae sitting on the ground in the hall against the wall directly opposite of the door.

   His knees are brought up to his chest with his arms loosely crossed around his knees. The way his blonde hair seems to be pressed flat against his forehead suggests he was resting his head on his arms just moments ago. His glossy eyes are focused on you, but they glance at Sehun briefly. He must have just woken up from a nap.

   “Hey Jongdae, what are you doing on the ground out here?” you ask, even though you already have a good idea of what his answer is going to be.

   “I was waiting for you. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were talking to Suho about previous owners and stuff, and I had nothing to offer to the conversation and was feeling awkward, so I came up here to wait instead.” He gets up off of the ground, but doesn’t make a move closer to you. He remains in the very spot he was just sitting in, with his left hand messing with his right fingers. You can’t stop the small smile that invades your lips.

   “Well I was just going to take Sehun to my mirror so he can see what he looks like.” You turn to the now less-panicked man, “Is it alright if he comes along?”

   He tenses up again when you give him your attention, but not before you catch the thoughtful gaze that flickered between you and Jongdae. Sehun nods slowly, and, for once, keeps his eyes on yours through the movement, despite how cautious he’s still being. You nod back in acknowledgement and turn towards Jongdae once more. You only give yourself a moment to consider the action before reaching over and grabbing the sleepy man’s hand. Jongdae tenses for a moment, but he quickly recovers and relaxes as you enter your room. You can see how Sehun drops his gaze once again just as Jongdae openly looks around the large room as if it’s his first time being in here. Although, you can’t blame him, you’ve spent the past few restless nights rearranging your room.

   Your queen-sized bed is centered against the wall to the left of the door. There’s enough room for a side table on each side, a large, dark bookshelf against the far wall, an entertainment center on the other side, and a comfortable walking path between them and the bed. You kept your lovely, darker colored carpet you had before because it compliments your light walls and matches your dark furniture (and to help hide any food and paint stains that may or may not exist on it). On the opposite wall from the door, you have a window seat built for when you’re reading or scrolling through various apps online. A set of beautiful blackout curtains hang there, pinned to the sides at the moment, so you can pull them shut if the afternoon glares on your phone or laptop screen become too much for you to tolerate.

   You head slightly to the right, towards the wall that has two doors and a desk with your computer set up in between them. The door on the right leads to your master bathroom, completed with a jacuzzi tub and spacious walk-in shower, while the other one leads to your large walk-in closet.

   You let go of Jongdae’s hand so you can open the closet door and turn on the light. Every wall in here contains shelving, hangers, and drawers that are filled with different types of clothing. The one to your right is for pajamas and casual wear, the left wall is for your nice tops, jackets, and dresses, and the last one opposite of the door for pants, skirts, and other bottoms that are “fit for a woman of your status”, as your stepmother had once said. The shelving space that’s on either side of the door is all for footwear and accessories. Last but not least, in the middle of the closet sits the stool you bought at a thrift shop while with one of your closest friends from high school. You still consider him to be one of your closest friends, despite not having talked to him in almost two years.

   You’re not sure if he was that good of a  friend, or if the “friends” you have now are just that bad. Most likely a mixture of both.

   You grab a black handle that sticks out where the back and right wall meet and pull it, rolling your mirror out of its storage space. It nearly brushes against the carpeted ground, just managing not to thanks to its wheeled frame, and reaches over your head by what you guess is at least a foot. It’s wide enough to fit Chanyeol’s and your own reflection within its borders with few complications.

   You wave the two men into the small room with a welcoming smile, then manage to gently guide Sehun in front of the mirror without touching or crowding him. While you step back to where Jongdae has placed himself, Sehun’s eyes widen and jaw drops just enough to separate his lips.

   He looks much better than he did when he first got here, but that doesn’t mean he looks healthy. He brings his right hand up to the healing gash on the side of his face, then moves his messy, colorful bangs upward to reveal yet another healing wound on his forehead. You watch as he moves on from his face and down towards the rest of his thin frame. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror, and must find the answer to his silent question somewhere in that brief moment because he’s lifting his white shirt up just enough to reveal his protruding hip bones and sunken stomach.

   He obviously wasn’t able to gain much weight while unconscious. It was a struggle just to keep him from either starving or drowning on his sustenance. According to multiple people and websites on the internet, it will probably take a few months for Sehun to get back to a healthy weight. He brings his attention back up and runs a hand through his hair. The colors that are almost completely faded after only this short amount of time proves that temporary dye was used. Sehun will have to be retested for his colors.

   You feel Jongdae lean into your side and you return the gesture before resuming your previous stances. You find pity and fear in Jongdae’s eyes and frown when you look at him, and nudge him in the side to get his attention. He looks at you with just his eyes first, then turns his head toward you with a slight tilt in a silent question.

    _Is something wrong? What do you need?_

  You answer by nodding your head towards the door. You want to let Sehun have some privacy for now. You can tell that he’s still very uncomfortable with being around you, and he hasn’t been alone since he’s been in this manor. Jongdae nods, apparently understanding and agreeing with your silent message. He has become a master at reading you lately, and you like to think can read him just as well too.

   “Sehun?” He spins his entire body towards you at the sound of your calling his name, his eyes focused on the floor and shoulders tense as usual. “Jongdae and I are going to drop the paperwork off downstairs and see if we can get the forms needed to retest your hair color. I don’t think it was done correctly or legally. I don’t mind if you stay here on your own for a while, you’ve been around people constantly since being here. Unless you would rather go back to your room or come down with us.”

   You turn towards the door, but don’t move towards it to give Sehun a chance to decide. Jongdae, on the other hand, has already retreated halfway out of the door. Once Sehun realizes that you want some kind of answer before you leave, he tries to speak. He stops on the first word, though, and clears his throat before his trying again at talking. His voice comes out softly but clearly.

   “If you truly don’t mind, then may I stay here, M’lady?” His hands are clenched into fists as he speaks. You hope to get to a point where he doesn’t feel the need to be so stiff around you soon, but you’re also aware that getting to that point could– and probably will– take years.

   “Of course.” You give a small nod and smile, then follow Jongdae out of your room.

   When you make it close to the living room entrance with the forms in hand, the first thing you hear is Chanyeol groaning “Don’t encourage him! Stop smiling! This isn’t funny, it’s a problem!”

   “I’m smiling at your reaction more than the jokes themselves.” Kyungsoo informs cheerfully.

   You finally round the corner to see what you assume is Chanyeol trying to merge himself with one of the couches, while Kyungsoo and Suho are laughing and smiling at him from the couch facing away from you. You can still catch the corner of Kyungsoo’s evil grin and Suho’s amused one.

   Suho turns to Kyungsoo next to him and asks, “Why was the skeleton afraid to cross the road?”

   “Nnooo!” Chanyeol groans at the same time Kyungsoo asks “Why?”

   “Because he didn’t have the guts to try!”

   You hear Jongdae mutter “oh my god” behind you and can’t hold back a snicker because of it.

   “Miss Y/n…” Chanyeol whines, causing the other two to jerk their heads around to your direction, “Make him stop… It’s been going on for too long.”

   You decide that if Chanyeol of all people is comfortable with calling you “Miss Y/n” instead of “M’lady” around Suho, a slave belonging to someone else– your mother, no less– then you can play along a bit and trust him to not relay your less-than-formal actions to your mother.

   “I don’t own him, so I guess you’re just going to have to suffer a little while longer.” you declare with a smirk.

   “Not you too!”

   Kyungsoo chuckles, and you can visibly see Suho relax against the couch again.

   “Suho, do you happen to have the forms for retesting hair colors?”

   “I do not believe so, Miss Y/l/n. I have given you all of the forms I was trusted to deliver.”

   “Oh, okay. I’ll just call my father and see if he can’t get those forms tonight, too.”

   “Don’t leave me here!” Chanyeol jumps up from the couch and stumbles to you. “Wait. Where’s Sehun?”

   “He’s using the big mirror in my closet right now. His previous owner didn’t let him look at reflective objects for some reason. I left him alone so he could have a few minutes to himself, but if you want to go up and check on him, you’re more than welcome. I’m sure he has questions or concerns of some kind.”

   “I’ll do it.” Kyungsoo volunteers, “Besides, Chanyeol needs a break. He’s been with Sehun nearly nonstop.”

   He gets up and starts walking towards the stairs, patting Chanyeol’s shoulder on the way out. Chanyeol huffs good-naturedly and makes his way to the kitchen, declaring that his insides are digesting themselves. Jongdae takes a step away from you for no apparent reason, which takes you aback for a moment. You know why his move surprised you because you two have been glued together for the better part of a month, but you don’t know why it surprised you, he’s just taking half-a-step away. He’s allowed to have personal space. You just don’t know when exactly you stopped simply tolerating him being in yours all the time, and started expecting him to be.

   “I’d like stay here and talk with Suho for a bit, Miss Y/n” he turns to the confused and suspicious slave on the couch, whose eyes are darting between you and Jongdae, “If that’s alright with you?”

   “I don’t mind at all!” Suho quickly smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

   You nod an acknowledgment to Jongdae, not sure how to respond to him with someone else’s slave in the room. You then meander to the kitchen, where you find your phone sitting on the counter.

   “Is that what was taking you so long? You trying to get him out of his room? And to a mirror nonetheless...” Chanyeol whispers to you once you’ve sat down at one of the kitchen island stools.

   You give him a brief summary of what happened, including your mother apparently not being the culprit. Once Chanyeol gives his input to your explanation, which was just a single, thoughtful nod, you press the green phone icon next to your father’s contact. Once again, your father picks up his phone within the first few rings.

   “Y/n! Is everything okay? I’ve noticed that you haven’t sent Suho back, and so has your mother.” His tone starts out as his normal cheery self, then becomes much more serious by the end.

   “Yes, everything is fine so far. And I thought she was out tonight?”

   “Something happened and their get-together ended early. If everything is fine, then why did you call?” Once again, he made a phrase that would have sound impatient and judgemental if said by anyone else sound genuinely curious.

   “I was wondering if I could get a form for retesting hair color. Sehun’s hair was redone illegally and the colors don’t match his personality whatsoever.”

   “Oh, I can send Lay over with those forms right now if you’d like!”

   “Suho’s already here, though, so I could just have him-”

   “I say you should keep Suho there until your mother calls you, just in case.” your father interrupts, his voice gone lower and stern.

   “Oh. Okay, then.”  _She’s going to call you?_

   “Good!” back to his normal self, “I’m going to give Lay the papers once I get them together, so expect him there within thirty minutes!”

   “Alright, thank you again.”

   “Thank  _you_  for finally understanding the importance of slaves. Do you know how much more work I would have had to do if you didn’t take ownership of the injured one?”

   “I’ve named him Sehun, and I’m glad I could help.”

   “You always come up with pleasant names, Y/n. I can’t wait to see what you name my grandkids.”

   You try, and nearly fail, to cover up the unimpressed noise that tries push itself from your throat. You are  _not_  ready to have kids yet, if ever at all. If you ever decide you do want to have kids, you’d like to be living off of your own money first, and not off of what your father gives you every month and what you can scrape up from your growing art business. That, and you’ve never actually named anything beyond inanimate objects in your life.

   “I have one last thing to tell you. Are you alone?”

   “With the exception of Lay, I am. What is it?”

   “Sehun said he’s never been owned by a woman, and in recent years he’s only ever seen unmarried men.”

   “Oh… That, complicates things… One way or another.”

   “I agree.”

   “Well, I’ll go tell the investigators this information, then. They’ll probably want to question Sehun themselves when he’s healthier. Goodbye, Y/n.” he says in a serious tone that shows his stress from the situation before hanging up. You sigh with the exhaustion of these events and the relief that it is nearly over.

   “He’s quite the interesting guy, huh?” Chanyeol comments from where he is perched on the counter, arms crossed casually.

   “We have stools for sitting. You know this.” You pat the space next to you as you get up from your own stool. You start walking out of the room, and Chanyeol hops down and catches up to you with a few strides.

   “Yea, but what’s the point of pulling out a stool if I’m only going to put it back a minute later? Besides, I didn’t want to make it obvious that I was eavesdropping on your father.” You sigh loudly, hoping that can pass as an answer. It does. “See? I’m not entirely in the wrong this time!”

   “ _This time_.”

   “Hey!”

   “What? You said it yourself.”

   The two of you stand by the table in the middle of the ballroom. When you left the kitchen, you forgot for a moment that Jongdae and Suho were having talking. Although, now that you’re out here and looking at the long and narrow table, you realize that you’re going to have to add another leaf onto the table. It only comfortably holds four people right now, and adding another segment will open up space for two more chairs, which are currently being held in your basement.

   “I didn’t say it  _like that_ , though.” Chanyeol pouts beside you, though the mirth in his eyes proves he isn’t actually upset. He gives in and completely brightens up, stepping over to where the middle support of the table is (this table has four center supports because it’s so long and was built to support a large party’s worth of food and beverages), and plops down onto the table there.

   You’re about join him when your phone rings. You have a feeling you know who it is, since your father wouldn’t call you back so soon, and growl in annoyance. When you lift your phone up just enough to see the screen, the name of exactly who you were expecting glows. You press the taunting green circle.

   “Hel-”

   “Y/n!” your stepmother’s screeches. You cringe and hold the phone away from your ear as she continues, “I know you had your phone in your hand! What took you so long to answer me!”

   “I was telling my slave to do someth-”

   “I don’t actually care. Where is Suho?”

   You roll your eyes at her, knowing full well that she can’t see.

   “Right here on my couch.”

   “Why is it sitting on  _your_  couch?! Why isn’t it on your slave’s couch?!”

   “Because I don’t have a couch ‘ _just for my slaves_ ’ like you do. I don’t see the point. It’s a waste of money and space.” You turn around so you aren’t facing the three worried men while you’re arguing.

   “The point is that they’re disgusting creatures, Y/n!”

   “I make sure  _my_  slaves shower at least every other day, for your information, so  _my_  slaves are perfectly clean and pose no threat to my white couches.” You make your way back to the kitchen, knowing she is probably going to get ugly rather quickly and not wanting Chanyeol to hear anything she says. The man in question seems to sense this and doesn’t follow you.

   “You disrespectful child! This is  _not_  why I called, I want to speak to Suho. Now!”

   “He is here because he brought something to me at my and father’s request. Whatever you are going to scold him for should be said to me. None of this is his-”

   “Are you defending it?! A fucking slave?! I should make one out of  _you_  if you feel the need to-”

   “I am only stating the facts!”  _you_  interrupt  _her_  for a change. It’s both a relieving and terrifying feeling. You’re sure everyone on the ground floor can hear you now.

   “Excuse me?! I am your mother-”

   “ _Step_!  _Step_ mother!”

   “You know what?” she is unnervingly calm now, “If you want to claim that son of a bitch has done nothing wrong, then why don’t you take him for yourself?!” her tone returns to her angry yelling once more.

   “What?”

   “If you want to think that disgusting creature is worth anything more than the dirt under our feet, then take him from me! Find out for yourself how fucking retarded and useless he is!”

   “Mother!-” you bark. This is offending  _you_ , and you’re not the one she’s directly insulting.

   “That will work out quite well actually! When I was saying to myself how much of a disappointment you are, that piece of shit tried to defend you! Spoke out of turn! So I hope you two run off and have kids-”

   You’ve had enough.

   “Nylah! You absolute bitch! Don’t forget that I know what you do to your slaves! I could tell father right now an-”

   “And what Y/n? He loves me more than you! You’re just some hopeless baby we found on our doorstep! I’d like to see you  _try_  to convince him that I am anything less than an angel!”

    _Oh boy, is she in for one hell of a treat._  You can’t help but smirk at the thought that you’ve already won. She  _has_  done illegal things, but a more pressing issue has made you temporarily forget them. You’ve seen her disgusting dungeon when you were younger, it wasn’t behind  _that_  locked door, but it’s somewhere in that mansion. Your mother takes your silence as defeat, which can be a good thing depending on how you make your next move.

   “I’m hanging up.” she announces smugly, “Keep the filthy rat. It’s not even worth the hassle of setting a price and the transaction.” The line cuts off abruptly after she finishes spitting out the last syllables.

   You allow yourself a minute to calm down before trudging back into the ballroom. All of the adrenaline is slowly running out of your body, leaving you a tired mess. You hop onto the end of the table. You lean your head back, close your eyes, and take a deep breath, relaxing your muscles, which you didn’t realize were all tense until that moment.

   “Y/n?-” Your phone cuts Chanyeol off. You don’t even bother looking at the name before answering, your head still tilted back towards the ceiling.

   “Hello.” It’s only now how silent you realize the room is. You could hear a pin drop on the wood below your feet.

   “Your mother just stormed into my office demanding that I get paperwork to transfer Suho to under your name?”

   “That was fast. Would it be possible to send it over with Lay? Or have you already sent him?”

   “I can send it with him, he’s still right here. Is everything okay?”

   You go to tell him that everything is fine, that you and her just got into another argument about slave preferences and care, that she’s just over reacting again, that you offered to take him, since you’re getting into the practice of rehabilitating slaves. You plan to lie again, so you can keep Nylah under your thumb for a little while longer and so it doesn’t seem like you’re making things up to get her in trouble right after a fight. You don’t want to get roped into this any more than you’re going to be because of what’s going on next door.

   “Nylah has a room somewhere in your mansion where she probably tortures slaves. I saw it a few years back and forgot about it until recent events. That was the room we were looking for that one day, and those are the ‘things’ she does to her slaves that Lay mentioned. She didn’t like that I knew and confronted her about that and the make-up covering something on Suho.”

   You don’t even fully realize what you said until a few seconds of silence pass, but you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment for once. The long pause continues for what feels like eternity before your father’s uncharacteristically voice breaks it.

   “...what?”

   You might as well go with it, since denying what you said could really only make things go south or simply delay the explanation. Time to be confident, which is not how you would describe the way your voice slowly lowers in tone and volume as you speak.

   “I will personally take Chanyeol and unlock every door that your key doesn’t open until I find it. If I don’t find it, then it’s been moved to a separate building somewhere on your property, which may take a little more time to find-”

   “Y/n,” your father stops your mumbling, “You sound very serious about this. Are you positive this is the case? You’re not remembering things incorrectly or..?”

   “There’s no way I could have seen it wrong that day. I remember it clearly.”

   “And why did you not tell me about this sooner?”

   That’s a bit tougher to answer.

   “At the time, I believed that if I had tried to tell you, I would have gotten punished for trying to sabotage your wife. That or she’d find out and do something drastic. You know how bipolar she she can be sometimes.”

   “Okay,” he takes a deep breath, and in that moment of quiet, you can hear the sounds of keyboard keys being pressed at a rapid rate. “What are you willing to pay for Suho?-”

   “She said, and I quote, ‘he isn’t worth setting a price and the transaction’, so I’m gonna take him for free. If she has a problem with that, tell her to call me-”

   “I’ll simply tell her that she insinuated heavily that it is free, and that it was already set as the official price and can not be changed. It’s what I would tell her if she did this to anyone else, so it would not be fair to burden you further just because you’re family.”

   “Thank you.”

   “You’re welcome.”

   You hang up and place the phone beside you. With a deep sigh, you drop your head in your hands, elbows on your knees, and finally take a moment to fully process what just happened.

   “Y/n?” Jongdae tries this time, weakly. You don’t have the strength to lift your head right now, but you hope Suho isn’t next to him.

   “Sorry, that was completely unlike me. My stepmother has been bringing the absolute worst out of me lately.”

   “Your stepmother? I thought she was out for the night? Or did I hear your father wrong?” asks Chanyeol. You can tell he’s trying hard to stay calm for your sake, and you appreciate it.

   “She was, but apparently something happened and she came back early.”

   “What did she want?”  _Jongdae_.

   You force your head up. Chanyeol is standing a bit to your left, obviously concerned, but giving you space to breathe. Jongdae, on the other hand, is directly to your right, his hand halfway reached out and twitching, as if he were trying to decide whether or not it’d be a good idea to place it on your shoulder or something. His arm drops to his side as your eyes meet.

   “She wanted to ‘talk to Suho’, and I refused to give him the phone. She did not approve of that...”

   “Are you okay?” You feel a light pressure on your shoulder. Jongdae must have changed his mind, after all.

   “I’m fine now, it’s all over.”

   You manage a small, lopsided smile, and that seems to make the two of them relax. This makes you smile genuinely for the first time in a while. You catch Suho’s eye from in the living room and beckon him over. He lowers his head and quickly shuffles over to where you are still sat on the table. You take that as your cue to start talking.

   “So, I like to call my slaves by the name they prefer, then have a separate name that I use for when I’m addressing them around other people, the one I write on all of the forms. It’s kind of so they know when to act formal and stuff so they don’t get in trouble for being too casual, because God forbid you act like humans.” The man you’re addressing nods slowly, confusion evident on his face. “So is there a name that you prefer to be called? Any specific nickname?”

   His eyes widen and jaw drops, matching the other’s expressions. Jongdae is the first to ask.

   “Y/n, what?”

   “That’s why I was yelling earlier. She was going to try to punish you,” you gesture to Suho, not knowing what he’d prefer you to call him, “for staying here longer than what was absolutely necessary. So I tried to tell her it was my fault for taking so long, but she obviously didn’t like that. Lay’s on his way right now with the paperwork and such. Was there a different name you liked to be called? Chanyeol and Sehun don’t have a nickname, so if you don’t want one then that’s perfectly fine.”

   “Junmyeon is my birth name, and I don’t mind the name Suho.”

   “Alright then, Junmyeon. I am deeply sorry that that was your first impression of me. I’m usually not like that.”

   “She isn’t.” Jongdae reassures softly. He looks at you, then the table, then places a hand on it. You scoot over and he hops up next to you. You two are close enough to where your legs almost brush against each other, but neither of you say anything about it.

   “May I ask a question?”

   “Of course, you don’t need to ask to speak when it’s just us. Don’t worry.” You’re starting to feel like a broken record.

   “Oh, okay. Um… You defended me?”

   You nod, “Yes I did.”

   “Why?”

   “Because you’re all just as human as I am, and deserve to be treated as such. And I’m tired of just sitting here, hiding from people like my mother. Blame it on the adrenaline rush I got from that argument if you’d like, I’m kind of doing that myself, but I am going to figure out some way to make this world better for you guys. I’m done watching people get treated like they’re less than animals just because they have those stupid collars around their necks.”

   Junmyeon has a relieved smile on his face, while Chanyeol and Jongdae have some mixture of impressed and prideful on theirs. Those two know you by now. They know you aren’t just saying this to make the Junmyeon feel better and more relaxed. They know that that isn’t the usual speech you give to calm new slaves down. They know you aren’t just saying this to convince him that you treat slaves differently. Chanyeol and Jongdae know you mean every word you just said.

   This country better look out because once you find a way to put an end to all of this, nothing will be able to stop you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! It is currently 10:41 at night, and I am getting tired, so please excuse any errors you see in the chapter. I promise the next chapter is going to be fluffy and nice! So look forward to the break from all of this crap. I hope you liked the chapter! I’m gonna go to to bed now… Heheheh


	8. A Successful Day Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, Character recovering from panic attack, Aspects of how anxiety affects me

   “Are you ready, Sehun?” you whisper, hyper aware of the fact that the poor man is trembling.

   You and Sehun are currently sitting in the waiting area for the Emberline's Slave Testing Labs. After Lay arrived that night last week, you were quick to fill out all of the paperwork needed to get Sehun’s colors retested and to gain official ownership of Junmyeon. Your father finalized and submitted it all into the system the next afternoon without any other hindrances. Right now, it’s barely ten in the morning, and you’ve brought along all five of your slaves with you on this trip. You plan on taking everyone shopping for some  _much_  needed supplies after Sehun’s testing and hair-dyeing is done. You only have enough clothes and bedding for four people.

   “May I ask how these tests work?” Sehun is still staring holes in the ground, but you can’t blame him. Your own heart is pounding and racing with nerves as well. You just hope you’re hiding that fact well enough to be taken seriously by whoever you’re going to meet.

   “I’m not sure of that, myself. I forgot to ask Lay last night with everything that was happening. I’ll be sure to ask now, though.” You bump his leg with yours in an attempt at a subtle, comforting gesture. If anyone saw that, they would assume you accidentally bumped into him while you were readjusting yourself before anything else.

   The door is eventually opened by a man who can’t be younger than forty-five.

   “Good morning Miss Y/l/n. You’re a little early.” he states with a light tone. You return his smile.

   “Well, it’s just as my father says, ‘early is on time and on time is late’.” He gives a breathy laugh, then studies Sehun.

   “Is this the specimen?”

   The way he says that irks you in a way that hasn’t happened before with a stranger of this profession. This  _specimen_  has gone through things far worse than he’s ever seen in person, you snarl in your head. You suppose it wasn’t just the adrenaline rush that gave you confidence yesterday because suddenly your heart is pounding and racing for a reason other than anxiety for the first time. That doesn’t mean you know why it’s doing so, though.

   You elect to ignore what he said and move on with the conversation, “Yes, this is him. May I ask how this testing works?” The man’s eyes squint at you with suspicion while you pointedly look to where he is now gripping Sehun’s wrist. “I am rather protective of my property. I have high hopes and paid good money for this one.”

   The old man hesitates, looking you up and down as if he were a predator sizing up his opponent. He must not find anything of significance, or maybe he did and he’s currently acting to make you feel safe, because he nods in calm understanding. Sehun’s eyebrows furrow together and lips frown ever so slightly, knowing very well that you didn’t pay a penny for him. You hope he knows that you don’t have any specific plans for his future beyond getting him back to a healthy weight. You just needed to tell something believable to the escort.

   “We strap the slave down so it can’t hurt anyone or damage itself, then we send it through different scenarios using simulations that connect to a headset that we will make your slave wear. Is that all?”

   You spend only a split second to look the now terrified slave over before nodding in assertive agreement. There’s not much more you can do without raising suspicion of being slave sympathiser, which would land you in jail faster than you could deny it. The man nods back, tells you to come back to pick  _it_  up in an hour and a half, then drags Sehun beyond the doors and out of your sight. You decide it would be best to not linger, and immediately turn around and try your best to calmly walk back to the car.

   Part of you wants to stand your ground and tell off that old man for how he handled  _the specimen_ , but the other, larger part just wants to disappear. The nerves are coming back settling in for the ride. These two urges balance each other out much better than you would have thought, leaving you feeling tense, but not near the point of panicking like it would have been just a few weeks ago.

   You climb into the passenger seat of your cramped car. Since there are only five seats for six people to sit in, you and the five men had to improvise a bit. Kyungsoo volunteered to drive, and it was universally agreed upon that he was least tolerant of being squished between people between the four people who could actually drive. You had Sehun and Junmyeon sit on the outsides by the door, so they hopefully wouldn’t feel as claustrophobic as being in the middle. Then Chanyeol chose to sit next to Sehun, since they’re most familiar with each other, and Jongdae between him and Junmyeon for the same reason.

   You’re actually impressed at how fast Sehun has been getting better. You expected him to want to lay down and sleep for at least a few more days, but it’s been the opposite. He’s been restless and wanting to move around more and more. He’s been taking whatever pain medication and antibiotics Chanyeol has been buying regularly, and the bandages he still has on get changed as needed, so you guys have been letting him familiarize himself with the mansion. The way Chanyeol puts it, Sehun had been tied down in that basement for so long that he doesn’t like to sit or lay down for any longer than he needs to, and you can’t blame him.

   “Y/n?” Jongdae beckons you out of your thoughts.

   “The guy said that the testing would take about an hour and a half, so I think we have enough time to go down the road and peek at the thrift shops and stuff.”

   You turn around to face the three slaves in the back, and can’t help but notice the dark color of Chanyeol’s and Jongdae’s natural hair as it’s beginning to grow in, and the dyed colors aren’t as vibrant anymore. You turn your inspecting gaze to Kyungsoo’s fluffy hair next. It’s more difficult to notice, but his hair is dyed a richer black than its natural color. You’re glad Kyungsoo suggested that you set up appointments for everybody today, and not just for Sehun.

   “So, to the shops?” the driver questions.

   “To the shops.”

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

   An hour and sixteen minutes later, you’re finally striding back to the help desk dedicated to the testing area of the building. You give the kind-eyed woman behind the desk your name and Sehun’s identification number, along with a form you filled out on the way to the shopping strip. She spends a minute at most finding where Sehun is in the testing process, and relays the information to you.

   “He’s in the calming room as of now, apparently he had a panic attack during one of the tests.” Your face must fall a bit because she gives you a pitying, almost empathetic, smile. You take a second to appreciate that this lady at least understands that slaves are living creatures with minds and  _genders_.

   “Is he at least done with the tests? Or are there more he needs to get through?”

   “His testing is completely done, now. He’s very jittery and paranoid, though. We don’t recommend-”

   “I’d like to have him back then, please. He gets anxious and useless when placed in new environments without people he recognizes. That’s why I brought him here to get retested, since that doesn’t seem like a bright rainbow-haired trait.” Telling these types of lies to strangers is almost second nature by now, but when you refer to Sehun as useless, you notice the woman’s face morphs into a frown so quickly you almost miss it. You make the risky decision of telling her a small truth with your own concerned frown, but indifferent stance. “I worry for him.”

   Her expression lightens into a genuine smile. “I would too. He seems like a good... person.” She says “person” very cautiously and softly, her eyes darting around the room. You don’t blame her for being extra cautious while admitting she believes that slaves aren’t soulless items to trade and toss about.

   You smile back at her as she types away at her computer some more, assuming that she’s telling someone to get Sehun for you. You’re pretty sure that any other person working this job would have insisted that you sit down until you follow their commands, if the didn’t call security first. Yet, she didn’t say a peep. She simply sends the email without any objections or hesitations, then alerts you that he’s being gathered up less than a minute later.

   You might have just found someone with the same views as you. This gives you the courage to dig a little deeper. You did say you weren’t going to sit back and let the government dictate everyone and do as it pleases, right?

   “He is good, all five of mine are.” You casually lean against the high counter top, getting close to the woman so she can hear your lowered voice. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.” you eye the young woman, trying to locate any hint that she isn’t what you think. Yet, you find none as she hands you the results of Sehun’s tests.

   “My sister is a slave now. She was kidnapped one night, and the next time I saw her was on a Emberline's Slave Exchange ad on TV. I was furious.” She’s whispering now, which is a good call on her part with all of the ears around you. Her tone makes her seem indifferent, but you sense the flames behind her eyes and see the way her hands twitch and curl barely noticeably.

   “It’s not fair. People should be people.” You mumble this mainly to yourself, but just loud enough to where she might just hear. Apparently she did.

   “I agree.”

   “Here it is!” the same man from before calls out from the door behind the desk, his grip tight on a leash attached to Sehun’s temporary collar. The unexpected rage that fumes up from within your chest at the sight is difficult to keep down. It’s taking everything to not scowl violently at the man and rip the leash out of his disgusting, knuckley hands.

  “Thank you sir.”

   You roughly take the leash out of the man’s hand, unable to keep all of the magma inside, then hastily unclip it from his collar all together. You force yourself to hold onto it, rather than hand it back, since it is a complimentary gift according your father. Not unlike when you take a dog to get groomed, and get a cheap leash from them. You notice Sehun’s barely-contained terror easily from your peripheral view. His trembling body also stiff as a board, his eyes wide and head down. You realize it’s a bad idea for many reasons, but you place your hand softly on his back. He freezes all movement for a second, but turns out unaffected by your small attempt at comfort.

   “Alright. Let’s go get your new collar and hair dyed, Sehun. It was lovely chatting with you Miss…?”

   “Just call me Allie.” You nod to her and smile, she returns the gestures.

   You hurry Sehun, who is still trembling, out of the horrible building and back to the car. Just before he opens the door to get in, though, you carefully loosen the collar he was given, so it comfortably hangs around his neck more like a necklace would. You personally know how much those cheap things irritate slaves’ necks– every adult was a curious preteen or teenager at one point. His wide eyes focus on you, his mouth opening just a bit then closing again not unlike a fish.

   “I’d offer the front seat to you if we were going straight home, but we have a couple more stops before then. Will you be okay crammed in the back?”

   His jaw lightly clicks shut and he nods once. His eyes then fall to the ground, as per usual. You nod back and pat him on the shoulder once, just now remembering that you are still within the public’s view. As you climb into the passenger’s seat, you hope that nobody saw you loosen Sehun’s collar. The man in question follows closely behind you, shutting your door before you could protest then squishing himself against Chanyeol in the backseat. Now that the two of you are settled, you open the folded papers you’ve been gripping on to that contain Sehun’s test results.

   “Almost completely warm colored, with a tiny pit of neutral, and all pale.” you announce to no one in particular.

   “That makes much more sense than bright rainbow.” Chanyeol responds softly, most likely directed to the man sitting next to him, who is slowly and steadily calming down. You continue considering the color options for Sehun silently in your head.

  Yellow is out of the picture, since a pastel shade would look too much like a shade of blonde, or would turn out to be too bright to be considered pale. Pastel Orange could look too much like a paler shade of ginger, a bright, neutral color. Plus, not everyone can pull off that color, and you don’t want to make yet another appointment anytime soon just if Sehun’s hair doesn’t look right. Pastel red will look too much like a darker pink or brighter orange depending on the shade of it. Although, pastel pink could work.

   You turn around in your seat to get a good look at Sehun behind you. He instantly knows that your attention is on him, of course, and looks at you for a moment in silence, waiting for you to say something. He ends up dropping his head rather quickly, though. What he doesn’t know is that you’re simply getting a good image of what shades of pastel pink and blonde would look best on him, and how the two colors should be shown. You decide against dying only the ends blonde. According to the percentage on the sheet, it shouldn’t be obvious that there is blonde in his hair at a first glance.

   That pretty much leaves the roots could be blonde. That wouldn’t look horrible when his natural roots grow in eventually, would it? You decide to ask for his opinion.

   “How do you feel about pastel pink hair? With blonde roots?” Sehun’s eyes widen in response, but he relaxes the tiniest bit now that he knows why you were staring at him so intensely.

   “I don’t really have a preference. I’ve never thought about it before.”

   “I don’t think it would look bad,” Chanyeol considers out loud, “Not too bad at all.”

   Jongdae leans forward to get a good look at Sehun, who looks like he just wants to shrink away from the attention, but physically can’t any further.

   “It would have to be a very light shade of pink, in my personal opinion, or else it might clash with the blonde or make one or both colors seem brighter than they actually are.”

   “I agree,” comments Kyungsoo.

   “I think Che- Jongdae’s blonde is too brown to match with pink. I’m not very educated in colors and hair, though, so I could be wrong.” Junmyeon adds quietly. He seems to be opening up to you and the others much faster than even Jongdae did, it’s very relieving.

   “So, what about a very light pastel pink with platinum blonde roots?” Kyungsoo offers, attention still safely on the road. Chanyeol turns himself towards Sehun as much as he can while squished as much as he is.

   “So, Sehun? What do you think?”

   There’s a lengthy pause of silence while he considers the colors. He looks to you and opens his mouth, probably to ask permission to speak, but he changes his mind, barely shakes his head as if subtly clearing a thought, and speaks up.

   “Yeah. I don’t think it would look bad.” Everyone smiles at his approval. He continues while looking directly at you, albeit shyly, “If you don’t mind, M’lady, then, is it alright if I have my hair styled without bangs. It’s completely up to yo-”

   “Of course. You don’t need to have bangs of you don’t want them. I’m sure you’re tired of them after having them in your face all this time.” you interrupt cheerfully. You’re happy that he requested something from you while keeping eye contact with you, for once. He gives a small smile in return once he realizes you interrupted with an agreement.

   You turn back around in your seat and mentally prepare yourself for a very long wait at the hairdresser’s. Dying a slave’s hair from scratch can take up to eight hours, depending on what needs to be done. Going from a faded rainbow to very light pink and blonde is probably going to take a while. 

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

   You wake up from your cat nap to someone calling out your full name. It’s not until you sit up and announce your presence to the stranger’s voice that you realize you fell asleep on Jongdae’s shoulder, but you don’t mind. If other people mind, however, they can mind their own business and move on with their lives. Plenty of owners have a head-slave that is always near them. Your father has Lay, one of your old friends, Minseok, has Baekhyun, or at least you assume he still does anyway. It’s regrettably been a couple of years since you’ve talked to him. You make a mental note to call him later.

   Sehun appears directly in front of you, tense and fidgeting with his hands. You look at the hairdresser standing behind him, but your words are partially aimed the now pink-haired man as well.

   “It looks lovely. I’m very happy with this, thank you very much.” Sehun lifts his eyes to yours for less than a moment and relaxes minutely.

   “I’m glad you’re pleased with it! Have a lovely day Miss!” says the hairdresser to you with a large, fake smile and a small bow. You smile back.

   “You as well.”

   You get up and walk out of the small, busy shop with everyone following close behind.

   “Where to next?” Kyungsoo asks once all six of you are seated in the white car.

   “The collar store, please.”

   “Your hair looks great, Sehun!” Chanyeol practically shouts, “Now I can actually see your forehead!” he laughs. It’s been a little while since you’ve last heard his laugh, it’s relieving to have him finally going back to normal.

   “Thanks.” Sehun finally allows a small smile to creep onto his face.

   “You said we were heading to the collar store, Y/n?” Jongdae asks, leaning forward in his seat for more shoulder room. He continues when you nod in confirmation, “Is it alright if I get a new collar? I’ve learned that ruby and pink don’t go well with a lot of my outfits.”

   “Ooh! Can I get a new collar too then?” Chanyeol leans forward to look directly at you from where he’s sitting, “I like the kind I got last time! So I want to see if they have other colors! I promise to try to organize the basement!”

   “I just got paid quite a bit from my online shop, so I can spare money for everyone. Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, you each can get one because you already have a ton at home. Jongdae can get two or three, Junmyeon, you can get three or four, and I want to get Sehun at least three, but no more than five today.” Everyone nods in understanding. “Okay, Junmyeon, Sehun, I do things much differently than other owners, as you’ve probably heard from these three.” you thumb to your original three slaves. The new ones nod in response. “Well, I’d like you guys to pick out your collars for yourselves, if you feel comfortable doing so of course.”

   “Miss Y/n,” Junmyeon quickly clears his throat, “if I may ask, how are we supposed to do that? I know we can buy things for you if the chip in our collars are scanned, showing what we were sent to buy and the balance you gave us. But isn’t it against the law for us to pick out our own collars?” Kyungsoo answers him before you can.

   “Actually, I looked it up yesterday, and it’s not illegal for slaves to pick out things for themselves, as long as the owner has decided that they earned that privilege. Although, it is looked down upon by slave owners and a large amount of the middle class.”

   “Really?” Jongdae and Chanyeol both say at the same time.

   “Yup.” you answer as Kyungsoo turns into the parking lot for the familiar collar shop.

   “Well, then.” you add absentmindedly, trying to make a decision. Your choice is finalized when you see no one else in the small building. You turn towards the back seats again, “Okay, so usually I have you guys lead me around with your eyes. You would look in a direction and subtly lead me to an area, then stare at the collar you want to try on, but I think I want to try something new today, if you’re comfortable. Just hold the collar you want to try on, or stand by it, and I’ll go around and put it on you. You don’t have to, of course, you can always do it subtly like I usually do it, but either way, you need to blink once if you don’t like it, twice for unsure or maybe, and thrice for yes.”

   “Yes!” cheers Chanyeol, Kyungsoo smiling largely in response. Sehun looks terrified, Junmyeon looks extremely concerned, and Jongdae is staring at you with a thoughtful, almost proud look on his face.

   The sound of the car door opening makes him jump. Kyungsoo has just gotten out of the car and is walking to your side to open your door. You smile at everyone, and Sehun begins talking quite fast.

   “I don’t feel comfortable choosing my own collar, but I can blink if I like one you choose for me or not, if you don’t mind.”

   “That is completely fine, Sehun. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.” You step out of the car, giving Kyungsoo a grateful nod.

   This is when you finally realize how fast and hard your heart is pounding in your chest. You usually get nervous from the thought of needing to talk to strangers, or being caught as a slave sympathizer. With the choice you just made in the car, you are making it to where you have to speak to the man behind the counter more than what is absolutely necessary, and you’re making the risk of that cashier reporting you to the ESE for sympathising with slaves even higher. Yet, there’s a small part of you that feels more at ease doing this. It’s not nearly enough to calm your racing thoughts and internal panic, but its presence is there, keeping you from calling all of this off and doing things how you normally would. That little part gives you hope that someday you might feel perfectly at comfortable with doing something as mundane as buying collars in the– probably distant– future.

   You need to make up a story, one that is perfectly believable, but extreme enough to ease the doubts that this worker will have. You don’t think of anything good enough until you’re almost at the desk on by the far wall of the small shop, the familiar red carpet under your feet and gold hooks along the dark walls, each with a collar hung upon them. You make it to the dark-red-wood counter and glance back for less than a moment to check on the five men behind you while the cashier come back from wherever he left to. Sehun is directly behind you, along with Junmyeon and Jongdae, who, unlike Sehun, are both subtly looking around with their eyes. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, on the other hand, have no issues with letting their gazes roam obviously around the store.

   “Hello Miss! How can I assist you today?” the man in the black uniform and dark, slicked-back hair cheerfully calls when he finally reappears.

   You stand up straighter and push your shoulders back in the familiar attempt to feign confidence and status. This time, however, you don’t do anything to calm your heart and nerves to further improve your act like you normally would. Your alibi needs you to look a little shaken.

   “I have a new slave here that needs a few collars, and those four protected me from a mugger in the city, so I am rewarding them by allowing them to each choose a collar on their own. Their other ones are beginning to bore me, and what better way to spice things up than have them choose.” you inform, playing off your general stiffness and slight shakiness at the hands as leftover adrenaline from the fake mugger. It seems to work magic because the man in front of you widens his eyes in concern.

   “Oh my- Are you alright miss? Did you call the police?”

   “Yes, the first thing I did was call the police, and I am fine now, thanks to my loyal slaves. Thank you for your concern.” you smile gently as you easily lie. You’ve had plenty of practice from being around your “friends” and stepfamily.

   The young man nods with a small smile, then asks for the paperwork and slave cards that ensure you are the rightful owner of these slaves. You can tell when he recognizes who you are. He freezes and his eyes widen for a moment before turning to you again, smiling a bit larger than before. He goes on to briefly recite the process of choosing and activating a collar and their privacy requests. He also informs you that the slaves can not remove and put on the collars they find, so that’s something you’ll have to do, as expected. You nod an acknowledgement and send everyone off to find a collar, while you try your hardest to find the collars you remember Kyungsoo and Chanyeol liking for Sehun to try on, who predictably doesn’t let his gaze leave the ground.

   In the end, Sehun gets two black, one blue, and a silver collar, all four with different designs and textures. Jongdae gets a plain black and a glossy white one, along with Junmyeon, who also gets a golden one. Chanyeol waits for Kyungsoo to choose and approve of a maroon collar before selecting the same exact one in blue, just to playfully spite him, as usual. Although, his plan seems to have backfired because Kyungsoo appears to have given up with the taller man.

   After handing all of their identification cards, the cashier gets to work on activating all eleven collars. He then moves on to reciting the laws surrounding the slave’s collars and the return policies for the store. With a “I’m glad you’re safe! I hope your day gets better!” and a large smile, he sends you on your way.

   The entire ride to the mall consists of Chanyeol and Kyungsoo bickering over their now matching collars. Junmyeon decided to sit next to Sehun this time, so they could chat as one slave new to your methods to another, while Jongdae took the window seat behind Kyungsoo as a way to help keep the first two from getting too wound up. Every time you look in the rearview mirror, Jongdae is either talking to one of the others, staring out the window, or, more often than not, looking in your direction. Whenever he catches you looking back at him, however, he simply smiles brighter at you before directing his attention to someone else in the cramped car.

   When you finally make it to the large mall, you bring the lot of them to various clothing stores, where you give the same excuse as the one at the collar shop and allow them to choose their own outfits for the first time in years, or ever. After the third clothing store, you all have plenty of bags filled with nothing but clothes and shoes, mostly for Junmyeon and Sehun. This is also when your nerves start getting the better of you from the thought that someone will report you for allowing your slaves to have some freedom, even though an employee was always near you to help explain your “situation” to anyone who approached. Jongdae was the first to notice and make subtle attempts to calm you down, but Junmyeon was the first to mention it out loud. You suspect that Chanyeol or Kyungsoo would have been the first ones to call you out if they weren’t walking in front of you like some kind of escorts. Over the forty minutes, the four of them convince you that they have enough and get you to leave after getting lunch in the food court.

   The next stop isn’t far, only ten minutes away at the very most. You figure that your slaves should have official matching outfits for when you inevitably get invited to one of your father’s grand parties. Before, when you only had two slaves, it was easier to get away with them wearing a generic white button up and black dress pants. Now, with five slaves (which is still less than the average number of slaves brought to a party of that size) people will question why you haven’t invested in an official uniform yet.

   You bring all five inside with you. You would have left them in the car, but they need to be properly fitted. Besides, they end up being a huge help in choosing an outfit, which ends up being very close to what you usually made Kyungsoo and Chanyeol wear before. White button ups tucked into black dress pants, the sleeves rolled up almost to the men’s elbows. The look is completed with black, shined shoes and black ties. All of the clothes are a well-known and unnecessarily expensive designer brand, but the ridiculous high price apparently shows in the quality of the fabric and the stitching. It doesn’t take long to get the gang measured and fitted before you’re paying and somehow finding a safe place to put the covered uniforms where they won’t wrinkle. It ends up being in the backseat on the squished slaves’ laps.

   The last stop of the day is a large furniture store, where you buy Sehun and Junmyeon sturdy bed frames that won’t break in the middle of the night. Junmyeon’s been sleeping on the mattress on the floor the past couple of nights because some of the rusty nails holding his bed together broke when he hopped up onto it, causing the footboard to completely snap off and the rest of the frame to crash down with it. He ended up sleeping in Jongdae’s room, while the blonde slept in the living room, since the only rooms left on that floor are storing junk that still need to be sorted through and thrown out. You hope to finally clean out those rooms later today and tomorrow.

   You end up getting four full-sized bed frames and mattresses, along with eight new bed sheet sets to put on them. You also get a queen-size sheet set for your own bed, and three small dressers and several lamps to place in the new rooms you plan on making today. Jongdae, Sehun, and Junmyeon all pick their own decorations for their rooms using their eyes, and you decide to not get anything for the two extra rooms you’re going to end up with. You pay, and the company somehow has everything you ordered right there in the building, and promises to have all of your things by tomorrow or the next day. Although, you have a feeling it’s just because of who your father is. People tend to give you special treatment once they learn who you are, especially since it’s a known fact among the public that you and your slaves rarely leave your property. You feel bad for the person who might have been waiting for their bed frame, only to have it ripped out of their grasp by you.

   You almost make it home, but then you pass a grocery store and Kyungsoo is reminded that there isn’t really enough food to feed six people since clearing out the fridge, freezer, and cupboards last night. With a defeated sigh, you tell him to turn around, so everyone can go in and choose what they want, allowing you to figure out what their food preferences are.

   You end up telling the others to get what they want and act like they’re getting something you ordered them to. For the first time today, Sehun agrees to go along with it. You all split up, and one by one everyone meets you by the checkout area, each with a basket of their chosen food and drinks, Kyungsoo being the only one with a cart and buying more practical foods and supplies. You pay for the groceries and finally get home.

   The first thing you do when you arrive back home (after helping carry everything in, of course) is plop face-down onto the couch closest to the living room’s main entrance. Everyone else goes upstairs to put their stuff away and help clean out the rooms for the furniture that will be arriving tomorrow. After a few minutes, though, Kyungsoo comes back downstairs to start working on dinner. It doesn’t take Jongdae much longer after that to find you and sit at the end of the couch near your feet. The two of you just sit there, enjoying the quiet and each other’s company. After some time, he looks at you with a closed-mouth smile before speaking up.

   “Thank you for letting us get all of these things today.”

   “It’s no problem, really.” you assure with your own smile while sitting up.

   “The way your hands were shaking says otherwise. You did a huge thing today, whether you’ll admit it or not. I didn’t think there were other owners like you, especially ones willing to do this kind of thing for us. I’m glad you’re the one who bought me. I don’t think I would’ve been able to tolerate or even survive being owned by someone else.” he gives a quiet chuckle.

   “The shaking hands only helped to make the story more believable, and I don’t expect this to happen again anytime soon, sadly,” you sigh, “I just wish people were treated like people. It would probably help with our struggling economy if you guys were, as well.”

   “Society will hopefully correct themselves in time.” Jongdae attempts encouraging you, but it doesn’t work.

   “Society won’t change if no one steps up and tries to make a difference. And so far, anyone who is even a possible threat to how things are now gets brainwashed into being a slave themselves. What happened to our democracy? To our freedom of speech and assembly?”

   “It left when the company your father helps run became a successful monopoly.” He suddenly glances around, then drops his voice down to almost a whisper once he decides the coast is clear, “However, I happen to know of a certain resistance group, if you’re interested in risking everything you have, and possibly what your family has as well, to help bring it back.”

   “Resistance group?” you whisper back, scooting closer to him, “How do you know of this? I didn’t even know there  _was_  any resistance.”

   “That just means they’re doing their job well. You’re not exactly the target audience for recruitment.”

   “That’s true, but that means they probably don’t want me near them, regardless. How am I supposed to join them? Plus, I know I said I wanted someone to step up, but I’m not that person. I don’t even think I  _want_  to join them. At least not anytime soon. How do you even know about this group?”

   “I used to know someone who I’m pretty sure was a part of it, but I have no clue where the base is or who we can trust. Just make your decision wisely. I’d actually almost rather you not join because this country needs people like you who aren’t in danger of immediately being turned into slaves to look after the slaves who can’t fend for themselves.” he avoids your eyes as he continues, “Plus I quite enjoy your company...”

   “I wouldn’t have guessed that from how you’ve been hanging off of me lately.” you tease at a normal, indoor volume, and continue as a light, embarrassed blush creeps onto his cheeks, “I wouldn’t have let you cling to me that much if I didn’t like being around you in return. It was almost weird not having you right next to me while shopping today.” His blush doesn’t quite go away, but he does gain some confidence.

   “Sorry, I just tend to like being around you more than the others. It’s not as awkward to me.”

   “Well maybe you’re the awkward one? And Y/n’s awkwardness cancels out your own.” Chanyeol teases suddenly, making the two of you whirl around to face the intruder, “And maybe I’m the awesome one who tells you it’s dinner time!”

   “And I am the necessary one who prepared the dinner you’re informing them of,” Kyungsoo cuts in, flicking the other man’s arm, “And the one who correctly put the extra leaf on the table because  _someone_  didn’t know how?” He turns his attention to you, “Tonight’s dinner is just salad and pasta. I’m too tired to make something that requires more effort.”

   “That’s okay, it’s been a long day for all of us I think. How are the rooms coming along, Chanyeol?”

   “We completely cleared it out and found another piano! And a lot of broken chairs. Sehun and Junmyeon are up there finishing up the sweeping and dusting now, I think. My room is full of furniture that’s somehow still intact, though.”

   “Wow, that didn’t take as long as I thought it would, and that was piano in Sehun’s room before, but we had to move it somewhere.” you inform. Kyungsoo’s face scrunches up in confusion.

   “Why was there a piano in…? Nevermind, your relatives can be kind of crazy, no offence.”

   “None taken. I completely agree.”

   “I’m guessing Chanyeol and I are sleeping down here?” asks Jongdae, tilting his head.

   “Yea, unless one or both of you would rather sleep in the cinema room upstairs-”

   “I get dibs!” Chanyeol interrupts, raising his hand high like a child would when exclaiming this same thing, “I’m a bit too tall for these couches.”

   “I guess that’s settled, then. I’ll go ahead and set up a couch down here for myself.” Jongdae stands and goes to the chest of blankets that’s against the wall by the fireplace.

   At this, Chanyeol cheers “yes” under his breath and jogs off after grabbing a few blankets, saying something hushed about eating dinner in bed. Kyungsoo states that he’s going to tell Sehun and Junmyeon that dinner’s ready, and walks off in the same direction. You then stand up so Jongdae can prepare his makeshift bed, and decide to get his and your food. You both eat at the table, which is longer due to having an extra piece added to the middle, and eventually are joined by everyone minus Chanyeol. You and Jongdae finish eating before anyone else and head off to your respectable beds once you bid everyone a goodnight.

   Not before impulsively giving Jongdae a hug to make up for the time that he wasn’t by your side today, though. You push back any and all need to question why you felt the need to do so and somehow force yourself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here’s a late update (yet again)! My excuse this time is that I lost motivation to do anything because I was in a constant loop of questioning my existence on this giant, floating, heated rock called earth! And now I have a ton of art homework to do for school! XD I hope you like this chapter! I promised fluff for this chapter, but there wasn’t that much... Sorry... Next chapter there will definitely be some proper fluff and snuggles, though! So maybe if I actually get my updates on time, you’ll see that in two weeks! Thank y’all so much for reading!!
> 
> P.S. - I meant to submit this at 1 this afternoon... It is now 11:27 at night because I never pressed “Post” Lmao


	9. More Evidence Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Character recovering from panic attack, aspects of how anxiety affects me, blood mention

   “Hello? Y/n? Are you dying? Do I finally get your inheritance?”

   You can’t help but smile and shake your head at the obvious jab.

   “Hey Minseok. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, huh?”

   “Yas, bestie! Oh my god! I’m offended at how long it’s been! How’ve you been doin’, girl? Family and friends still as bitchy and stuck up as before?” he answers with his best “basic white girl” voice. It’s an inside joke.

   It’s a week after the shopping trip, and you’ve been too busy painting and sketching for the upcoming art fair to call your old friend, who apparently still considers you his best friend– not that you mind. He’s probably the one single person you don’t mind being called their “bestie”. You have greatly underestimated how much all of the things you bought costed. The collars themselves were expensive, but not too much to handle, as were the prices of every other individual trip. However, you didn’t really think about the final expense number until after everything was bought and you looked at your bank account to see if you’re close to being able to buy the materials to build some gazebos for your steadily-growing, makeshift family.

   The answer is a definite “not anytime soon”.

   “Pretty much, yeah. But I’m doing well I guess,” you sigh, “A lot of crazy things are happening right now.”

   “I had a hunch. Some people I follow on the internet were going crazy when the reclusive Y/n was found at the ESE thing a couple months back, standing next to a new slave that had a rather expensive-looking jacket on. What was all of that about? I thought you didn’t support all that?”

   “No, I still don’t. I didn’t even want to be there. Someone who thought I was their friend wanted a specific slave and I was pressured into helping her by pretty much everyone I know. She ended up deciding she didn’t want Chen when I already had him by the wrist, so I just kinda bought him instead. Besides, he looked more unhealthy than some of the others and I couldn’t just leave him for the predators.”

   You remember how skinny and pale Jongdae looked. At the time he looked more pale, and you simply thought it was his natural complexion, but you know better now. He’s a healthy weight now, and is actually gaining some muscle from the amount of yardwork he does. It’s been his official chore since you made him help you with it while Chanyeol and Kyungsoo saved Sehun.

   “I’m glad you still haven’t changed. I was genuinely worried there for a while, but I was kinda scared to call. I still don’t have any others besides Baekhyun, but I also don’t have a family who really cares about what I do.”

   You elect to ignore the last part of his comment when you respond, knowing that his family is a sore spot for him. He got a job as soon as he was legally able to and saved up so he could get out as soon as possible. He ended up moving to an entire other city a few hours away just less than a week after graduation. The only reason he didn’t move out the day after was because you wanted to have a party for the both of you, then you wanted to have one last sleepover before he was gone for good.

   “So you do still have Baekhyun. How’s he doing?”

   “He’s doing pretty great actually. He isn’t as moody and guarded as he was when you knew him. He’s actually pretty nice and funny and easy to get along with. Most of the time he is, anyway. And he can be quite the prankster.”

   “I get the same treatment from Chanyeol, and he’s starting to get J- Suho mixed up in a few of his schemes already.” You almost slip and call Junmyeon by his birth name, rather than his slave one. You would use his real name around Minseok, but you’re still paranoid about the next door criminals and the phones being tapped.

   “Suho?”

   “Yea, he’s the most recent of the five I take care of now. It’s kind of a long story that I don’t trust telling you over the phone. Do you still live in Damenster?”

   “Not anymore, I live in a small apartment a little farther than there now in Egerwood. Barely an hour longer to get to your place, if that’s what you’re asking.”

   “It is. When are you free?”

   “This weekend actually. I assume you’re free?”

   “Yup, like pretty much always.”

   “Alright, let me just ask Baekhyun if he’d want to come too real quick.” Minseok takes a deep breath, presumably to call out to his companion, but before you he can say anything, you hear a different, familiar voice shout something in the background. Your friend starts speaking again, and you can practically see the smile on his face. “I guess he is coming along.”

   You hear a sudden burst of laughter and other commotions coming from the living room, and, considering you’ve perched yourself in the kitchen, it’s loud enough for Minseok to hear.

   “They seem like they get along pretty well.”

   “They do, and they’re all already warming up to me and how I run things, which was a task and a half for one of them. But I’ll tell you all about that when you get he-”

   “Y/n! Chanyeol got purple gloop on the couch!” shouts Jongdae, interrupting you unintentionally.

   “It’s not gloop! It’s slime!”

   “What’s the difference! You still got it on the couch!”

   “ _I_  didn’t get it on the couch! Kyungsoo was the one who sat down after it got all over him!”

   You sigh, sometimes you feel like a babysitter in recent days. Although, admittedly, it’s much better than only having Chanyeol and Kyungsoo around to keep you company, and sometimes it’s fun to see what the gang has gotten into. Minseok hears the sigh loud and clear, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could also understand what the guys were yelling about.

   “ _You_  were the one who got it on me!”

   Minseok’s voice sounds up from your ear, “Do you need to go take care of that, Y/n?”

   “That doesn’t mean you sit down on the white couch! At least sit down in the sunroom or something!”

   “Yeah, I probably should. I don’t know you can hear them but...” you answer, not wanting to hang up quite yet. You just started talking to the one person you consider a true friend again.

   “I can. I hope the slime doesn’t stain.”

   “Why did you even pour it on him?!” calls Jongdae.

   “Alright, I’ll talk to you very soon, then! Bye!” Minseok hangs up cheerfully after you say your goodbyes.

   “It was supposed to be funny! It washes off skin in the shower, and those are his older clothes! ”

   You make your way to the living room using the dining room door, and you’re not sure what exactly you were expecting, but it not something to this scale.

   There’s slime, which is indeed purple and looks more like gloop, covering Kyungsoo while he stands by the couch facing away from you, which is also filthy with purple, with a smug look on his face. Chanyeol has gloop on his hands and arms and a few handprints on his chest, and is the embodiment of guilt and embarrassment for the first time in a long while. Jongdae is on the couch closest to the sunroom with Sehun, trying to calm him down after all of the sudden shouting. Suho is on his hands and knees by the main entrance attempting to rid the carpet of the “slime” that Kyungsoo trailed in from the ballroom, where a puddle of the stuff sits. You can’t help but release a loud, disappointed sigh. You don’t like telling people what to do, you despise it really, but there are certain situations where it’s necessary.

   “Junmyeon, you don’t have to do that, I’m making Chanyeol and Kyungsoo clean this up. Chanyeol started this, Kyungsoo dragged it in here. It’s their mess to clean. Can you two please start with the carpet, then the couch?”

   A chorus of “Yes Ma’am”s fill the otherwise silent room, then the shuffling of the three men moving. You turn your attention to Sehun, who is still trying to calm down. You give him a close-mouthed smile when he meets your eyes. You slowly and calmly walk to him, extra careful to avoid any quick or unexpected movements.

   “Would you be interested in helping me and Jongdae outside by the gazebos? You don’t have to, of course. It’s just quiet out there.”

   “If it’s alright, I’d like to go to my room, please.”

   “Okay. Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

   “I’ll accompany you, Y/n.” Junmyeon declares.

   You nod an acknowledgment, then watch while Sehun shuffles upstairs, just to be sure that he’ll be okay. You then quickly head out with Junmyeon and Jongdae at your sides, leaving Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to clean their mess.

   You now realize that you never asked Jongdae if he wanted to tag along, only assumed that he would say yes. It’s nothing new, you’ve been doing this for weeks now, but now you’re beginning to realize just how much time is spent being at his side. Even with how little your parents visit, they know that you never go anywhere without Jongdae, and have begun to assume that he is the new Head Slave (that title still belongs to Kyungsoo, and probably always will).

   Lately, you’ve been wondering if he feels the need to watch you because you are the daughter of the man whom his old friend rebelled against. Although, if that were the case, he wouldn’t have mentioned the rebel group to you at all. After all, you make it very clear to him and the others how you feel about your dad’s company’s opinions on slavery. It could be helpful to have someone with your connections be an official part of the ongoing rebellion.

   Well, this might have been why he first started sticking by you, but he’s since made it obvious that he simply likes being in your company. Either that or he’s a fantastic actor who can blush on command, but you highly doubt it.

   Junmyeon’s quiet voice breaches your thoughts.

   “Y/n, what are you thinking about? If you don’t mind my asking.”

   “Nothing much, really.” you turn and beam a smile, “Just thinking about how much more comfortable you guys seem to be getting around here. It’s nice.”

   It’s not exactly a lie. You  _were_  thinking about that, just not at this exact moment. Although, now that you’ve said it out loud, you’re thinking about that too, but you don’t let yourself get lost in thought again.

   “Yea, I am. And I think Sehun’s getting better around all of us.” inputs Junmyeon.

   “He seems to be meeting your eyes more and panicking less frequently,” Jongdae adds, “but that could just be me seeing things. It hasn’t been long since he’s been in that basement.” Both you and Junmyeon nod.

   “It really hasn’t, but he’s got the best owner imaginable and four other slaves to help him realize this.”

   “I don’t think of myself as your guys’ owner, or you guys as slaves. I see you all as my family in a way.” you clarify once again, eyes casted to the ground. You’re going to follow through with that promise you made last week, it’s not just going to be yet another empty one.

   “This is why you’re the best!” Junmyeon cheers, “I was treated like less than a dog for most of my life, and as soon as I started breaking, you came along!” His voice drops to a low, calm tone. “I honestly and truly believe that you can help Sehun, make him believe that there are good people out there too. He’s already beginning to get comfortable with me and Chanyeol and is growing used to the rest of us, and I have no doubt that that’s because of the way you treat us. Like we’re equals.”

   “We  _are_  equals. Or at least should be, anyway.” you correct, matching his low tone.

   You finally make it to your gazebo, and the three of you get to work on weeding the flowers that are planted around it. Several minutes pass in comfortable silence, only the light breeze blowing through the plants around you can be heard, causing a gentle, calming, rustling sound to fill the area. Eventually, Jongdae interrupts nature’s whispers with an all-too-familiar cautious tone.

   “You said you were treated poorly most of your life, Junmyeon? If you don’t mind my asking, does that mean you were born a slave?”

   “Yes, I was.” He doesn’t seem mad or upset at the question.

   “Was it difficult?”

   “Very much so. The outskirts where I was born was located in a dessert, so we couldn’t rely on illegal hunting and foraging for food and water, and we were rarely given any by the guards.”

   “They were supposed to move out of the deserts a while back now, though. When did you get out of there?” It was a law your father helped pass. He cares about the health and safety of slaves, even if it’s only because the prices of them drop significantly if they have scars or weaknesses.

   “Nearly a decade ago, I think. They were preparing for relocation when I became eligible to be bought out.”

   You release a small breath you didn’t know you were holding, “Okay. That location should be closed down for good by now. That should be fine then.”

   Except it isn’t fine. Nothing will be fine as long as people have to live in fear of becoming worth less than an animal for breaking a law, regardless if it was out of good intentions or by accident or not. You scowl and yank a weed out more forcefully than needed at that mental reminder.

   You raise your head from the ground to look to your neighbor’s manor. The police didn’t stay over there for very long, which makes you believe that they never even entered the building or searched the basement. Why should a normal person spend energy on slaves, after all? It irritates and disgusts you how people can be so rude and heartless to living human beings just because they were born into slavery or made some kind of mistake and was forced into it.

   This is all you’ve been doing recently, it feels like; noticing yet another thing that is corrupted in the world, then complaining about it and telling people off all silently in your head. Yet, you never take action– you’re always too afraid to– and you don’t know of any way you could actively protest without having to worry about direct conflict.

   Jongdae probably has an idea or two. He told you about the base that’s somewhere in the area, after all, and you’ve been thinking that the rebellion needs people other than the active fieldworkers and spies, if they have any of those at all. Even if it’s something as small as allowing Jongdae find and go to the headquarters himself while you stay home with the others. Maybe you should offer to let the others go as well once you find it’s location, but only if they want to. All you know is that you made a promise to try to help change things, and this time you’re going to keep it one way or another.

   Several minutes pass in silence before you finally break the silence. You’ve finally decided that there’s something you need to do.

   “Hey, I’m gonna go take a break and take a walk down to the fields and back. I need some time alone to think about some things.” You put your tools down and stand, stretching your back from its prolonged hunched position. Jongdae pauses and looks up at you.

   “Are you sure you want to go alone? You’ll be out for a while if you’re going out that far...” Jongdae is most likely only mentioning this because he wants to be by your side (you force yourself to not think about the “why” again), but you can’t have him near where you’re going.

   “I’m sure. If I’m not back in five hours, call me.”

   It’s Junmyeon’s turn to voice his concern, putting down his tools and turning to you, “Five hours?”

   “Yep. I’ll be back soon.” You stand and stretch your back. “You can take a break and chill in the house if you’d like, it’s starting to get chilly outside.”

   “We’re almost done here, I’ll just finish this area first. Thank you, Y/n.” Junmyeon responds as you walk away.

   You make it back to your manor within a few minutes, and tell the Chanyeol and Kyungsoo the same alibi. You then run upstairs and change into a large, dark hoodie (you almost choose a light one just to not be so cliche, but then fully realized why dark colors are always used in crime movies), loose-fitting, nondescript pants, and grippy sneakers before you pocket your phone, a small digital camera, and a few other things. You can already feel your heartbeat begin to race at the thought of where you’re about to go; one trip there was more than enough to last a lifetime.

   You leave the house with a loud and comedically posh “Farewell!” and hear a few varied responses as you shut the door behind you. You pull up your hood then travel to the end of your driveway and down the main road a ways. You continue just past the main gate of the neighbor’s property, where the bars of the rot-iron fence are bent just enough to squeeze through, hidden from the road by one of many bushes lining this property. You noticed this as you were leaving with Jongdae last time because it’s the only set of bars that aren’t evenly spaced.

   You make your way to the manor by crawling on your hands and knees through the overgrown grass in the front yard. It probably won’t stop the cameras from seeing where you are, but it will hopefully make you less noticeable. You decide to go around to the side of the house opposite from where the basement is, seeing that there’s a camera watching the front door based on Chanyeol’s and Kyungsoo’s blueprints and notes, and having no way of stealthily going to the basement door with the driveway in your way.

   You look and feel all along the edge of the large, old building, looking for anything else suspicious. After what feels like ages of crawling and searching, your hand catches on a handle. Referring to the month-old notes, you learn that there is nothing labeled where you’re currently at, so with a deep breath, you try to force the partially buried hatch open with shaky hands.

   It requires a bit of force, but the door eventually gives way. Before you go brave the pitch black of what seems to be a second basement, you check the notes and blueprint once more. There’s still nothing that would suggest that there’s anything here, only on the other side of the house where the basement Chanyeol found was. You pull out and turn on your small flashlight, then step into the darkness, closing the hatch behind you in an effort to be more hidden from the outside.

   The steps are very steep and not very wide, so it take a conscious effort to not grip the questionable, rusty railings, but you manage. You finally creep off of the final step and look around for traps. You don’t see any, not in the sense where if you looked hard enough in the house you could have found them, so you continue deeper into the room, being extremely aware and mindful of your surroundings.

   There’s a bookshelf covering an entire wall that is sticked with bloodied, broken collars of all styles and colors. Whoever runs this operation has been in the business for a while now, and the thought makes you nauseous. You manage to get a photo or two before moving on to the back of the room where another bookshelf lies, this time smaller and filled with books. You reach to grab a more suspicious one, but notice the thin tripwire in front of each shelf, just waiting for someone to pull a book off and trigger it. You make the wise choice to leave this shelf alone.

   To your right is a table, and you carefully sneak to it. It’s made of wood that’s been stained a red tint and has an awkward line going down the middle of it. You would assume that this was simply where one can add more leaves to the table to make it longer, if it weren’t for the fact that it has one, large leg holding it up in the center, despite the obvious spots for legs on all four corners of the table. You do a thorough check of the table and the space around it, before slowly lifting the latch under the tabletop, allowing the table to separate in two.

   No traps activate, none that you’re aware of, anyway, but you don’t relax or stop shaking in the slightest. You push the two, unconnected halves of the tabletop apart, revealing exactly what you expected, a secret compartment. It’s filled with even more books, and you decide that you can’t see any traps after a thorough enough search. You hesitantly reach out for the one on top.

   It’s a large encyclopedia of sorts, but it’s hollowed out and filled with letters and small weights when you open it. You pick one up and snap a picture of it using your digital camera, the repeat the process until you have all of them on your camera. You carefully replace them in the order you found them in and place the book back, then reach for another book. This time, it’s a sketch pad. There’s plenty of drawings and sketches, nothing that you couldn’t do, but still impressive nonetheless. As you’re skimming through, your eyes catch a page that looks slightly different. This displays a family tree it seems, and you continue on after taking a picture.

   The feeling of the adrenaline pumping through your body steadily turning into panic of being caught down here makes you move faster. You end up finding a total of eleven family trees by the end of the book. The next sketch pad has nine completed ones and two uncompleted ones in it. None of the other books have anything useful, so you quickly make your way out after putting the tabletop back together and doing one last scan of the mostly barren room.

   You never once thought that you would be happy to be outside in the bright sun in your life, yet here you are, grinning widely at the relief of being able to see properly. You’re still the only one out here, and that’s all you need as reassurance to continue. You somehow manage to shove your anxiety down, and crawl to the backyard.

   According to the notes and blueprints, there are a few cameras back here, along with some traps, but most of them are so obvious that you can see almost all of them from where you’ve put yourself. Getting down on your stomach, you army crawl through the thick grass along the house and to the window on the far side of the house, the only one that doesn’t have a trap or alarm marked on it on your map.

   You open the window and climb through as silently as possible, closing it just as you did for the hatch. There’s a very specific path you follow to safely get to the hatch inside that Chanyeol was trying to unlock last time you were here. You note that the hatch is covered by the obvious, white rug again, and hope that it was either Chanyeol or Kyungsoo who did it as you move it aside once more. According to the blueprints, there’s a camera and a projectile trap just under it, so there must be a way to safely open it. After what seems like an eternity of careful searching, you find a small button behind the stove and press it after triple checking for traps and alarms.

   You hear a click, then some ticking. Panicked, you whip around in preparation to run, when you notice a glowing green light by the lock, it makes you hesitate just long enough for you to see it disappear, and the ticking stops. Nothing happens. You tell yourself how idiotic you are as you press the button once more, but this time, turn and reach for the hatch. It opens easily. The ticking doesn’t stop, though, so you jump into the small passageway before it stops and assumably restart the bomb.

   You see a small pressure plate directly under the ladder to the cramped hallway and just barely miss it. You don’t see anymore traps marked down here besides an electric one on the door, and that gives you the courage to tiptoe to the door without completely freaking out again. You hesitantly open the door by putting your shoes on your hands, since the bottom of them seems to be rubber. You find you are correct after the door is ajar and you are shock-free. Well, almost shock-free.

   You’re still shocked to see a small room filled with pictures of people tacked to the walls. Some of them have red circles around them, while others don’t. Three have black lines through them. There are papers on a small, circular table in the center of the room as well, but you can’t quite see what they are at your angle.

   You pull out your camera once more and blindly take plenty of pictures from where you’re peeking through the crack in the door, which is just wide enough for one arm to fit through with some wiggle-room. You would push the door open wider, but this small room alone has four traps in it according to your sheet, one of them being a projectile one right behind the door. Plus, this blueprint is nearly a month outdated, which is plenty of time for someone to add more traps, like the one in the bookshelf basement. Once you feel the claustrophobic panic setting in again, you close the door using your shoes and shuffle to the hatch. It takes a moment of looking before you find a button and press it. The ticking begins again and you crawl out quickly, shutting the hatch and replacing the rug.

   You can’t ignore the way your hands are shaking uncontrollably, but you can’t call it quits yet. You follow the particular pathway out the window, but instead of sticking to the right and going home, you take a left towards the basement where Sehun was kept. There weren’t any traps a month ago, but crawling up to the hatch now, you can see another tripwire and a sensor on the side of the door. Whoever is doing this must be wealthy to afford to buy, set up, and upkeep all of the traps and cameras on the perimeter.

  You decide it’s too risky to try and open the hatch, so you crawl back along the house, through the large yard, and slip through the gap in the fence again. All you want to do is sprint back to the safety of your home, but for the sake of not looking too suspicious to anyone who might drive by or risking revealing your identity to the glitchy camera by the gate, you force yourself to stroll along the main road just as you did before. This also happens to give you time to pull yourself together a bit, so you don’t look like a complete wreck when you finally return to your front door. You may not have been there for long, but it was still too long for comfort.

   You barely have time to open the front door and pull back your hood before three extremely concerned men pounce on you.

   “Where did you go? Why’d you take so long? Are you okay?” Chanyeol fires one question after another as he assumedly checks you for any injuries.

   “You should have at least given us a general direction of where you were heading,” Kyungsoo chides, putting his hands on your shoulders “We were all very concerned and getting ready to call you! What would have happened if you hadn’t come back or picked up your phone when we inevitably called? We would have been helpless.”

   “Was I really gone for that long?”

   “Just about four and a half hours.” Jongdae answers while gripping tight onto your sleeve with his thumb and the side of his pointer finger.

   “Four and a half hours?! There’s no way I was gone that long!” It only felt like an hour, maybe two. You must have been more focused than you thought, or maybe you just blacked out a lot without realising. Both are very plausible.

   “I had the home phone in my hand ready to dial your number the moment it hit five hours.” Kyungsoo says, finally stepping. ”You never leave the house, especially all on your own. Where did you go?”

   You lower your eyes and flit them to the side. “Next door.” you mumble.

   “What?!” exclaim the three men.

   “Are you nuts Y/n?! What the hell were you thinking?!” Chanyeol grabs you by the arms just hard enough to get your attention and showcase his concern. You bring your eyes to where Sehun and Junmyeon stand a few steps back, unable to meet his reprimanding gaze.

   “I have a large hoodie on and baggy pants, so whoever owns that place won’t be able to tell who I am immediately.” you defend yourself.

   “Because they’re not going to guess that it’s the same people who raided them last time?” Jongdae takes his turn to scold you, “Y/n, you can’t be serious.”

   “But I found so much evidence! There’s a whole other basement! Look! I took pictures of everything! I didn’t get time to read and go through everything I found, but there is some seriously messed up stuff in there.”

   “Should we…” Junmyeon begins, “Should we continue this in the living room? Or somewhere more private than the open doorway?”

   “I don’t even want to think about what’s in there.” Chanyeol growls, taking a step back. “I don’t want to deal with this. It was hard enough the first time. If you guys want to continue this mess, then I’ll take Sehun upstairs and play some games, since I bet he isn’t gonna want to be here for this either. I’m having too many nightmares from the last time as it is.”

   Kyungsoo steps back with Chanyeol, “I want to know what was so important that you had to lie to us and go over to that place alone sooner rather than later.”

   “Jongdae, may I speak to you privately?” you ask, suddenly remembering the resistance group. Maybe if you can find them, they can help do something about this, since the authorities are obviously not going to do anything. Why would they? Pricks.

   “Of course.”

   “We’ll be right back, guys.”

   You lead Jongdae up to your room, shutting and locking the door behind you. You turn to face the strangely tense man.

   “Do you think you can help me find the rebels’ base?”

   Jongdae blinks in surprise.

   “What?”

   “I want to be a small part of the rebellion. I’m done sitting back and watching all of these horrible things happen to people. Just look at this.”

   You pull out your camera, clicking the button for the gallery and scrolling all the way back to the first picture you took today, the bloodied collars. He presses against your side so he can more easily see the surprisingly clear picture of the old shelf with the ruined collars decorating it. Jongdae’s look of grief, disgust, and anger says it all.

   “That’s a lot of collars… And they were obviously not legally removed...” his voice barely over a whisper.

   “I know,” you copy his quiet, serious tone, “We already know the police won’t do anything, and that even well-paid private investigators wouldn’t do much if it weren’t my father paying them. Do you think that rebellion group will be able to help?”

   “If their setup is anything like it was described to me two and a half years ago, I’m positive they could. It’s a matter of finding them though...”

   “Do you happen to remember in what general area they’re located in?”

   “No, I actually haven’t been to this area before, I just heard there was a smaller-scale base around here somewhere.”

   “Dang it. We need a way to find them. Do you think we could just look around and scout out some possible rebels?”

   “Aren’t I constantly being tracked, though? What if someone find out I’m just wandering around?”

   “Only I can legally tap into it, and I can also find out very quickly if your tracker has been looked at by anyone but me. Only others look should into it when the owner reports a runaway slave.”

   “And that’s for everyone?”

   “Yes. Besides, I’d put on a disguise and go with you. I wouldn’t want people to give you trouble.”

   Jongdae steps back in thought. He paces back and forth within your room a bit. The doorbell rings at some point, but Kyungsoo answers the door, so you both elect to ignore the chime, the friendly voices, but the random clunks you hear afterwards catch your attention. No one runs up to get you or raises their voice above a calm, indoor tone, so you assume the furniture has arrived. Jongdae finally comes to whatever decision he made in his mind, and turns his full attention to you again.

   “Do you think the others would be interested in joining as well? They seem trustworthy.”

   “I know there’s a chance that Kyungsoo and Chanyeol might want to, and Junmyeon is fair game I guess, but I don’t think Sehun will.”

   “I was thinking the same thing…” He paces a bit more then stops, his stare still focused on the ground with his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m going to ask Chanyeol and Kyungsoo directly, since I know for a fact they have plenty of skills that the resistance will like, and they have our trust. Junmyeon and Sehun on the other hand, I think I’m going to hint at it to them, see if they notice. If they do, and they show interest, then start I’ll working on asking directly.”

   “And if they don’t notice? Or they don’t like what you’ll be hinting at?”

   He meets your eyes, “Then I guess it depends on why they aren’t interested. I can’t imagine they won’t join because they’re outright against our cause. But we can’t tell them anything about what we’ll be doing by that point. The less they know, the better for their own safety.”

   “I couldn’t have said it better.”

   “Okay. Now all we need is a plan to get us to their base, or a member of the rebellion.” The movers seems to be transporting the furniture upstairs now, so he steps into your personal bubble and speaks at almost a whisper. “As far as I can tell, there’s not many slave owners in this rebellion, for obvious reasons, and we’ve had people betray us before, both owners and slaves alike, so I don’t think they’ll trust us at all at first.”

   “So we’ll just have to prove we’re trustworthy early on. I can start practicing my public speaking again so I can rant about the ESE in front of people.” You smile, showing that you’re not being entirely serious.

   “That’s actually not a bad idea, but I think we need to start with not causing any trouble and not doing anything your father or the police would consider suspicious. We don’t want to accidentally lead a trail to them.”

   “Does going next door alone count? Even if I tell you where I’ll be?” you ask in a teasingly manner, almost smug.

   “The only way you’ll be going there alone from now on is if you don’t tell me, which will be a problem for everyone here.” he copies your tone.

   “Note taken.”

   Jongdae doesn’t step back, seemingly lost in his thoughts. His eyes are trained on your left shoulder. Slowly, his teasing smirk drops and his eyes furrow slightly into the beginnings of a concentrated scowl. You take half a step backwards, bringing your companion back to the present. He quickly shakes his head and meets your eyes once more.

   “Do you have any clue where to start?”

   “Not that I can think of right now.”

   “We’ll just have to figure that out a bit later, then. I have a feeling everyone is wondering what’s taking us so long.”

   “Yea, let’s head back down.”

   Jongdae is still visibly worried and stressed, and you want nothing more than to make it disappear, or at least lessen it. He begins to walk towards the door without you. Without giving yourself time to talk yourself out of it, you grab his hand. He tenses and turns to you quickly, concerned and surprised. You weave your fingers together and give his hand a quick squeeze, never moving your smiling eyes from his beautiful brown ones. His expression turns to something more awed and confused, with his eyes wide and innocent, brows slightly pinched, and mouth just barely separated. You lead the blonde to the door, only releasing his hand and turning around once you open your door. You don’t need to look back to know that he’s still staring at you with the same expression as before.

   The two of you make it halfway down the staircase before Kyungsoo and Chanyeol start moving a bed frame upstairs under the direction of Junmyeon. You both quickly plaster yourselves to the wall in attempts to stay out of their way as the three men make their way past. You then rush downstairs to help move things up to their designated rooms.

   You struggle to move a large box upstairs, and decide to leave the transporting things to the guys and move on to assembling the things that are already upstairs. By the time you’ve put together and placed all of the lights and shelves in what are now the spare rooms, the other five members of the household have completely finished putting together Junmyeon’s and Sehun’s new rooms.

   “Y/n?” Chanyeol calls as you finish adjusting the lamp on the shelf you just moved.

   “Yea?”

   “Can we talk for a minute?”

   “Yea, sure.”

   You follow him out of the guest bedroom, across the hall, and to the second door closest to the staircase to the ballroom, the one next to your door. This is where it was ultimately decided that Jongdae’s room would be. The bathroom is between his and Chanyeol’s room, and Sehun has been placed between him and Kyungsoo, who remains in the designated head-slave’s room at the end of the hall. Sehun was placed there so both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol could hear him through the walls if he has another bad night terror, which has been a growing concern recently. Junmyeon’s door is directly across from Kyungsoo’s, as the brunette requested. The three spare rooms take up the space on Junmyeon’s side of the wall.

   Chanyeol shuts the door behind him once you enter Jongdae’s room. Kyungsoo is already sitting on the one chair in here, so you place yourself on the bed instead. Chanyeol eventually joins you. The room is quickly enveloped in a tense silence that doesn’t disperse until Kyungsoo gathers the courage to break it a couple of minutes later.

   “Is what Jongdae told us true?”

   “Depends what he told you.”

   “The resistance. You deciding to join them.” Chanyeol jumps in, hints of irritation lacing his voice.

   “Yes.”

   “Well, we all know  _why_  you want to join,” he continues, “but why  _now_  of all times? Now that your stepmother is breathing down your neck and your stepfather is working with you on this investigation?”

   Kyungsoo answers for you, “It’s because of what you saw in that manor today, I assume?”

   “Yes. I didn’t see much with my own eyes, but I saw enough. I took pictures of everything to look at later.” you answer in a practiced formal tone, normally used to hide your emotions from your stepparents and “friends”.

   Chanyeol surprises you by stating “I want to see the pictures.”

   “But you said-”

   “I know what I said,” he interrupts harshly, “but it must be pretty serious if you decided to do something as big as join a resistance group against your own father because of it.”

   “It’s not just this, but this was the final push.”

   “We know,” Kyungsoo tries to soothe the tension in the air with his soft voice, “We have lived with you for years now, we’re aware that this isn’t the only thing, or the major thing that made you feel the need to join the rebellion. This isn’t a spur of the moment thing.”

   You give a slow nod in acknowledgement. The room falls into a silence once more, but it’s less tense this time around, and doesn’t remain for very long.

   “We were offered to join you guys. He said that we had plenty of helpful skills. Although, I think he was mainly talking about Chanyeol at that point.” he continues. Chanyeol seems to remember something at Kyungsoo’s words.

   “Do you know what kinds of things we would be doing if we accept his invitation? Do we know if we’ll even be accepted?”

   “I don’t have the answers to any of those, but I can ask Jongdae if he has any clue what jobs we could do there. I’m curious myself.”

   “Sounds like a plan.”

   The silence returns, once again tense. You stand to go find Jongdae, and right as you grip the door handle, a knock sounds. You open it to reveal exactly who you were just going to look for, very serious and somewhat concerned. You can tell he knows exactly what you three were discussing in here. You invite him inside to join in.

   “Speak of the devil and he may appear.” Chanyeol teases in attempts to lighten the thick air.

   “Hey Chanyeol, Kyungsoo. I’m guessing you have questions?”

   “What types of things do you think we could do in the resistance group?” Chanyeol asks in lieu of an answer.

   “Anything you feel comfortable with, really. I’m not sure how it is now, but nearly three years ago my friend said they had people for nearly everything. Some went out on missions to save slaves who were being kept under illegal conditions when the law turned a blind eye. Some went to get classified information using various techniques. Some stayed safely back at the base and hacked into different places, or just babysat any children or animals they might’ve had. I remember that his group had one or two slave owners working with them, and they would help hide in the people who managed to escape slavery.”

   The three of you take a moment to process this information.

   “Woah.” Chanyeol says dumbly.

   “His resistance had quite the process, doesn’t it?”

   “Well, we have to be careful to not get caught, don’t we?”

   “I don’t want to house anyone,” you blurt out, “My step-parents come around too often for me to feel comfortable and safe with having any illegal people here.”

   “I was thinking the same thing.” Jongdae agrees.

   “But then what else is there left for me to do?”

   “You’re fantastic at art, so I’m sure you could pick up camouflage makeup and stuff like that quickly. I’m sure they use that kind of stuff. Plus I’m sure it would be easier to get those types of supplies through you, since you go to the art store so often. You actually have a discount just for showing up.” his eyes light up in amusement.

   Well, he isn’t lying. You wonder if they would give you a slightly larger discount if you came by even more often. They’d probably get worried about you if you came down any more often than you do now, though. You already go there at the very least every other month, and that’s not when you have an upcoming fair or a burst of inspiration.

   “Besides, and this is going to sound very impersonal, but look at who your father is. I’ve learned more about the ESE by just hanging around you than I have in all my life.”

   So he does just stick by you for information, or at least once did. You can see Kyungsoo’s and Chanyeol’s faces change from intrigued and calm to offended. You don’t know why they would be angry when you were the one insulted, except you weren’t really insulted, were you? You were just given some not-so-great news about Jongdae’s original attachment to you, news that you were quite honestly expecting. Jongdae’s voice forces you to focus on the real world once again.

   “That’s not why I stay by your side, by the way. It’s not even why I stuck by you in the beginning. I just enjoy being around you, Y/n, and everyone else that lives here.” He meets Kyungsoo’s and Chanyeol’s eyes as he says this. “This environment is very refreshing from what I grew used to at the camps.”

   You let a tiny smile escape without thinking, how could someone not smile at a quiet confession like that. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol give each other a determined look, then face Jongdae when Chanyeol speaks.

   “So, where do we go to get signed up?”

   “I have no clue. All I know is that a couple of years ago there was a small base somewhere by the city. It’s hard enough to find a resistance member as it is, but I’m not familiar with this area, and the ESE people are everywhere around here. It’s not like we can ask around.”

   “The ESE color testing place.” you state out of nowhere.

   “What about it?” Kyungsoo asks for the three of them.

   “The lady at the counter when I was picking up Sehun from his testing last week was either an extremely good actor, or she shared similar views on slavery as me. I think I remember her saying her sister was kidnapped and forced into the Emberline's Slave Programs?”

   “Do you happen to remember her name?” asks the hopeful blonde.

   “Annie? Angie? Alice? I dunno, something along those lines. But I do remember what she looks like.”

   “Well I would hope so,” Chanyeol jokes, “it’s only been a week. I’d be concerned if you didn’t remember her face.”

   “Actually shut up, Chanyeol.” You shove him playfully, failing to hide a smile.

   The four of you hear Junmyeon calling out from the hallway.

   “Guys? Where’d you go?”

   “We’ll continue this later?” you ask quietly, not waiting for an answer before shouting “We’re in here!” as you unlock the door.

   You hear quiet laughter, then, “Why are you all in here?”

   “We were too lazy to actually go downstairs after setting up camp in here.” Chanyeol answers smoothly as the door opens.

   “Where’s Sehun?”

   “He wasn’t with you?” Kyungsoo gets up from the bed, genuinely worried. You guess that taking care of an unconscious, injured man for a few weeks then helping that same man through PTSD for another week will result in quick attachment, especially when they’re both calm and introverted.

   Junmyeon shakes his head, “He’s not in his room or the bathroom either.”

   “Maybe upstairs? I know he enjoys movies and shows.” You offer.

   “I never thought to check up there. He usually never goes up there alone.”

   The five of you exit the room and make your way down the hall to the spiral staircase that leads to the third level. The cinema room is the closest room to the stairs on your left, with the game room to your right, and your art room next to the cinema room down the hallway. Random, empty rooms sit beside and across from your art room, both having been locked for years now, just like the last room at the end of the hall. You ignore those rooms in favor of putting your ear against the door and listening for anything. You immediately hear familiar music, so he must be in here.

   Put your finger up to your mouth in a silent gesture to stay quiet and put, and they all follow your instruction. You quietly open the door and make your way into the darkened room, noting that one of the movies you recommended to Sehun is playing on the screen.

   “Hey Sehun,” you call softly, just loud enough for him to hear. He immediately pauses the movie and moves to hop up onto his feet when you stop him. “No no no, it’s okay, you can stay there, I was just worried about you. Are you okay?”

   “Oh,” he relaxes a bit, “Yes I am, Mistress.”

   “Do you mind if we join you?”

   “Whatever you’d like, Mistress.”

   “Sehun,” you’re sure he can hear the smile in your tone, “I asked you so  _you_  could choose. I don’t mind letting you have some alone time up here. And you don’t have to call me ‘mistress’. Y/n would do, or even Miss Y/n if you’d like, only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

   “Oh…” You can tell he’s tugging at the bottom of his shirt, which you learned he tends to do when he feels awkward. “Um, I don’t mind you guys being up here, I just- uh, nevermind.”

   “You just what? It’s okay to tell me.” You claim a spot on the nearest couch.

   “I- um- just like to watch these in completely quiet places, and- um...” Sehun’s voice drops to almost a whisper, “it usually isn’t quiet with everyone eating and stuff.”

   “We don’t have snacks this time, and no one will leave to get any, right Chanyeol?” Junmyeon passively scolds from where he waits by the door.

   “Okay,  _mom_ ”

   You hear Kyungsoo’s chuckle and Sehun’s lips curl up the tiniest bit as well. With a shrug and a nod from Sehun, you beckon everyone inside and tell them to be quiet once more. Everyone gets settled in. You get up so Junmyeon and Kyungsoo can sit on either side of Sehun, Chanyeol claims the beanbag, and You and Jongdae get the second couch to yourselves. Sehun presses play on the movie and turns the volume up. You allow yourself to become immersed in the movie, temporarily forgetting any problems and stresses the real world in bringing right now. You shift your position just enough so you can lean against Jongdae, who is hogging the last available blanket. He freezes for a moment, but quickly relaxes and lays his blanket on you as well. You don’t really need it, you were comfortable, but you can’t refuse the soft warmth that is Jongdae and his chosen blanket.

   Between the fuzzy warmth and the exhaustion your stress has been causing recently, it doesn’t take long for you to slip into the realm of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NEXT CHAPTER IS FINALLY OUT AFTER A YEAR OF HIATUS!!!!! WOOOO!!!!


	10. The New Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Mentions and non-explicit descriptions of Past Abuse, Mentions and non-explicit descriptions of Death and Murder, Mentions of torture, Aspects of how Anxiety affects me

   “...Y/n.” you hear someone whisper. “Y/n, come on, we need to get up.”

   The person’s voice is low and rough, as if he himself just woke up. It’s oddly very nice. Why is he so keen on getting you up, anyway? You’re so very warm here, wrapped up in a soft blanket and laying on what feels like a personal heater. If he is even half as cozy a you are, he should be falling back to sleep.

   “Food’s ready, we can’t stay here forever. Come on, get up.”

   Your body gets jostled again gently, waking you up just enough to realize your waker and personal heater is Jongdae. You open your eyes lazily. He’s laying on the couch diagonally with his legs propped up by the recliner in the middle, and his head resting against where the back of the couch meets the armrest. You lay partially on his side with your head on his stomach. You don’t remember shifting into this position, but you’re not complaining. It’s surprisingly comfortable like this. You snuggle back into the blanket the two of you still share.

   “Y/n...” whines Jongdae, “I’m hungry, and breakfast is done downstairs…” His just-woke-up voice is gone now, replaced with his normal, clear one, strangely to your dismay.

   “Fine…” you groan.

   You only agree because you are quickly discovering how hungry you are from accidentally skipping lunch and dinner yesterday.

   You finally make yourself sit up and stretch with quiet groan. Jongdae swings his legs down to the floor and does the same before standing. He turns to you, silently waiting for you to stand too and follow him downstairs, despite how you can hear his stomach growl in protest of his hesitation. You oblige quickly for the sake of both of your stomachs.

   “What time is it, anyway?” you ask once the two of you going down the staircase to the ballroom.

   “Around seven or eight?” You hum in response.

   You smell the eggs before you even enter the kitchen. Jongdae chuckles lightly at the sound of your stomach growling. You’re about to turn into the kitchen, but Sehun’s defensive voice stops you. You’ve never heard him get defensive about anything, and you need to know why he’s starting now. You quickly grab Jongdae’s wrist and pull him back away from the entryway. If they see him, they’ll know you’re not far behind.

   “I dunno, I’ve had owners who act nice just so they can gain my trust and eventually break me more. How can you possibly trust her? All slave owners are all the same.”

   Well, this is a serious case of deja vu. Jongdae doesn’t seem confused any more, so he must realize what’s happening now as well. He flattens himself against the wall and dedicates his attention to what’s being said in the other room.

   “Because we’ve lived with her for years now, we know her. I know you don’t believe it, but she  _is_  different.” Chanyeol responds.

   “You only know what she wants you to know. There’s such a thing called acting. She just  _wants_  you to think she’s different.”

   He’s in a much worse of a mindset than you thought. You thought you were getting through to him. This is nearly as bad as Chanyeol was, if not just as bad. Although, Chanyeol where tended to get on edge or, on exactly three occasions, violent when you unintentionally pushed his limits, Sehun seems to freeze and tries to shrink in size.

   Junmyeon is the one who replies, surprisingly, “I don’t think anyone would put their comfortable life on the line so we can choose our own things at a store  _just_  to get us to trust them more for the wrong reasons, like you seem to think. Besides, I’ve overheard the fights she’s had with her mother on the phone, and the things that Nylah says about her. I really don’t think Miss Y/n’s acting.”

   “I can understand why you don’t trust her,” Kyungsoo begins reasoning, “and how hard it is to trust someone after the things you’ve been through, but give her an honest chance. You won’t regret it.”

   “It took me over a year to trust her, and through it all she was nothing but accommodating to most of my needs and wants.” Chanyeol pushes softly.

   Sehun practically growls, “ _Most_. Not all. She still wants control-”

   “ _No_. No. She just wasn’t about to let me harm myself and other people and let me run around at night to be caught by government officials and end up executed. She did me a huge favor by holding me back.” You can tell Chanyeol’s trying to stay calm, but his irritation slowly slipping through.

   “You guys are talking to me as if you know exactly the hell I was put through! Everyone talks like-”

   “That’s because I  _do_  know exactly what you’ve been through! You aren’t the only one who’s been tortured and beat for almost no reason!” Chanyeol effectively silences the room.

   Kyungsoo tries to defuse him, “Chanyeol-”

  “No Kyungsoo!” he snaps, “My last owner forced me to be a criminal! He made me learn how to steal from people and kill others! I watched my friends  _die_  because of that man, over things like they were too weak or sick to fucking murder people and steal shit out of mansions! And I was only barely fourteen when he bought me! I became a monster for him so I could survive! So I wouldn’t die like the people I called my friends, Sehun! Long, painful deaths that everyone in that fucking place could hear their screams! That everyone knew that  _someone_  there was going to be ordered to clean what was left of them or risk the same punishment! And Y/n helped me out of that toxic mindset. Over time she put me back on the right track. She helped me learn how to be a fucking human being again! And find who I was before all of that! Even after all of the endless shit I gave her.” There’s a slight pause as Chanyeol takes a deep breath, then continues sounding softer, defeated.

   “I almost killed her twice, y’know? I don’t even remember the reasons- probably something along the lines of wanting real freedom- but I almost did it. She was just sleeping in the sunroom, and never hides or locks her knives like my last owner did, it would’ve been so...  _easy_ , to do…” He briefly pauses again. “Why do you think I’m so protective of her now? There are monsters like what I used to be still out there, and I will not let someone as kind and genuine as Y/n get hurt by them.” His tone becomes more of a growl.

    “So if you even think about hurting her, or ratting her out to someone, I will not forgive you.” He takes another calming breath, “So. I do understand what you’ve been through perfectly well, and I am telling you, as someone who has been through the same shit, to give her a chance. An honest to god chance to let her prove herself to you, because she deserves it more than anyone else in this shithole of a country. And don’t you dare be as much of a shithead as I was, because I will find out.”

   Silence. No one dared to say anything. No one dared to move a muscle.

   Jongdae looks at you with pure, genuine concern, his eyes wide and body tense, gripping your wrist with a strength you were only assumed he had before now. You can’t blame him.

   Chanyeol almost killed you twice in your sleep. Strangely, it doesn’t quite bother you like it should. Don’t get it wrong, it still makes you extremely uncomfortable and a tad anxious, but you aren’t drowning in anxiety like you feel like you should be in this moment. He very well could have killed you, but he didn’t, and now it’s in the past. Chanyeol basically said so himself that he regrets who he used to be, so why judge him on the actions he  _didn’t_  make during those first, rough sixteen months? He has saved your life thrice since then (once by stopping you from crossing a busy road while you weren’t quite paying attention, and twice by warding off kidnappers), and is extremely protective of you. Considering the circumstances, why should those two not-actions from years in the past change your overall opinion and view of him now?

   The answer is it shouldn’t, and it doesn’t, not really.

   You smile reassuringly at Jongdae, who has grown more concerned yet less tense over the period of time you were gone in your thoughts, which couldn’t have been too long, because you barely make out Chanyeol’s whisper.

   “I’m going to bed. I’m sorry for the outburst, guys. Just- Please… Please don’t tell Y/n. I don’t know what I’d do if she found out and became afraid of me. And I didn’t mean to threaten you Sehun, I just don’t want her hurt.”

   You hear footsteps leading to the entryway you’re hiding behind. Then Chanyeol appears, obviously distressed, and freezes and does a double-take. His eyes meet yours and go wide, and he becomes more rigid than you think you’ve ever seen him with what looks like fear and dread.

   “Y/n-”

   Without any more hesitation, you rush up and wrap your arms around his torso snuggly, burying your face just below his collar bone. He doesn’t move a muscle. His arms are still frozen out to the sides where he moved them when you practically jumped on him. You hear the others’ tense inhales (not quite gasps) from in the kitchen, but ignore them in favor of speaking into Chanyeol’s sweatshirt.

   “Nothing changes. I promise. I’m sorry you had to go through all that. You’re so very strong for getting past it and becoming who you are today.” You look up at him, “You do know that, right?”

   He becomes a puddle at that, losing all tension and fear that racked his body, and lets out a loud puff of air, as if you just gave him permission to breathe after going months without air. He slowly wraps his arms around your shoulders and manages to put his forehead on your shoulder.

   “Thank you. I’m so sorry.” His breath is shaky, as if he’s trying force down tears.

   “It’s okay. You ended up not doing anything.” You gently back out of the hug, meeting his watering eyes. “And it’s just like you said, that isn’t you anymore. I have no reason to be afraid of you anymore. If anything I feel safer knowing we’ve got each other’s backs.” you beam at him. He smiles wetly in return, then sniffs lightly.

   “Thank you.”

   “Of course.” You wipe the few tears that fell onto his cheekbone. He huffs a laugh and takes a step back while wiping his own eyes.

   You consider the moment done and back up to Jongdae, who looks much more relaxed and content than before. He steps forward to meet you halfway and takes his rightful place at your side, making a point of brushing your arms together. You meet his eyes for a moment, then turn your attention behind you to the other three. You don’t have any plans on addressing Sehun’s fears, seeing as though the man in question looks like he’d rather be sucked up into a black hole at the moment. You meet Kyungsoo’s eyes with a smile, trying to make that whole statement less of a scene as possible.

   “Now, I heard food was done? Is it burned or cold now?”

   Kyungsoo tries to follow your nonchalant attitude, “No. It shouldn’t be, anyway. It’s just fruit salad and omelettes today, and I have the eggs on the ‘keep warm’ setting in the pan.”

   “Good, because we’re kinda starved.” Jongdae jokes and thumbs to himself and you.

   Kyungsoo chuckles breathily, still trying to act normal, and leads everyone to the dining room. You decide to lag behind with Chanyeol, though.

   “Do you want to go back to bed and relax for a bit? You don’t usually feel well after thinking about your past, and that was a lot more than just thinking about it.” At his look of indecisive hesitation, you continue, “I can bring some food up to you? You know the other’s won’t mind-”

   “You really meant it when you said nothing would change.”

   Confusion invades your features, “Yes? Of course I did.”

   “Do you know what anyone else would have done with that information? They would’ve-”

    Your hand on his shoulder stops him. “I thought we all already agreed that I’m not like other people.” you smirk. He smiles back.

   “I think I will go upstairs to rest. Thank you. For everything.”

   He looks to your right. Jongdae’s standing with his head down just inside the kitchen waiting for you two, far enough away to give you two a semblance of privacy, but close enough to make it obvious that he is waiting for you. As if sensing that you two are looking at him, Jongdae looks up and makes eye contact with first you, then Chanyeol. The silver-haired man breaks the not uncomfortable, if not still somber, silence.

   “Take care of her for me, yeah? I have some memories I need to repress again for the next few hours.” he attempts at humor, giving a weak, almost pained chuckle at himself. The mood filling the air doesn’t really change.

   “Always.” Jongdae replies, stepping over to where the two of you stand. He clasps Chanyeol’s shoulder kindly, “Take your time. We’re all here for you.”

   “Thank you.”

   He then makes his way to the stairs, and disappears up them. Jongdae quietly breaks the new silence, which has become much heavier in Chanyeol’s absence.

   “I worry about him. Is he going to be okay without any professional help?”

   “He’ll have to be.”

   It isn’t fair that slaves don’t get mental help, that they only get a head of warm colors and eventually put down like dogs when they are no longer wanted by the more-blessed and less-deserving. It’s quite sickening actually, and the fact that The ESE has the guts to call it “natural selection” or even “ _justice_ ” makes your blood boil. You’ve already expressed how much you hate The ESE a million times over, but those times it was mainly just festering, boiling, building up, and complaining was how you were trying to cope with the anger you felt towards them, trying to soothe the irritated swelling growing in your chest. Now, though, now everything is bubbling over. You can’t hide yourself away from this corrupted planet and pretend things will be okay any longer, even if that’s what part of your mind is screaming for you to do even right at this moment. You don’t want to be a slave to your anxiety anymore. You refuse to be.

   Nothing gets done if everybody waits for someone else to start it. Nothing changes if people wait for someone else to do the dirty work while they sit back and follow orders. If people want change, they have to bring it themselves. They can’t depend on other people to try their best then cheer, remain silent, or scowl depending on the ending that comes.

   You’re not going to let those “friends” of yours push you around anymore when everyone will assume you’re just becoming more reclusive if you drop them. You’re not going to let your mother intimidate you into doing anything she wants anymore when you know she has nothing on you and when your stepfather is on your side. You’re not going to support the company your father works for by taking in anymore slaves brought by them anymore, no matter how much you want to rescue all of those unfortunate souls. They’ll be free eventually, because you’re starting the search for the rebels tonight.

   Somehow you can’t imagine that psychiatrists and therapists and doctors will offer their services to a rebel woman and her jigsaw family bound to slavery. You also don’t want to try to go to them and have them miraculously see through your act and report you. You have things that need to get done now, you can’t afford to have distractions or be forced to lie low.

   You meet Jongdae’s eyes briefly, fully aware of how the sudden wave of determination hardened your face. You turn and leave behind a very confused man as you begin walking to the dining area to fix a plate for Chanyeol. You don’t pause your movements as you belatedly add to your answer over your shoulder.

   “We’ll all have to be okay. We no longer have a choice in the matter.”

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •          

   “You ready, Kyungsoo?”

   “As long as you are. You’re the one doing the talking.”

   It is nearing two o’clock in the afternoon, and you’ve brought Kyungsoo to The ESE’s color testing section in hopes to find the desk woman from before. Chanyeol and Jongdae didn’t like the plan of just showing up and asking to “set up an appointment” if she was there, but what else is there to do? There are no other clues to follow in finding the rebel’s hideout. You have to at least try. You would have brought them too, or just either one of them, but your plan only includes one slave, and Chanyeol was definitely not ready to face the public world after this morning, and you and Jongdae get too close and friendly with each other without even realizing it.

   You take a deep breath and start marching to the automatic doors of the place. You scan the help desk and hold back a cheer when you find exactly who you’re looking for helping another person. The problem is that there is now another worker joining her today, which means you can’t talk with her somewhat freely like you did last time. Also, no one else is in line currently and the other worker, a seemingly sturdy man with black hair, doesn’t seem to be busy, which means you’ll have to stall. You glance waiting area and gladly see that there are only three other people in this room with one to two slaves each.

   If your anxiety and the last two months have taught you how to do anything, it’s how to look like you belong and are doing something productive when you’re actually just waiting awkwardly for someone or something.

   You stride over to the touch pad where people are supposed to sign in and fiddle around with it for a few moments, then huff as you pull out your wallet and start rummaging through it. These things ask for a valid, state-issued ID card to scan, but it’s pretty much common knowledge that a lot of the time the scanners will be broken and won’t accept a valid ID. You hear that the lower classes have the ID checks and such done by a person, and you would almost prefer that to these stupid machines, even if it is slightly more of a risk of identity theft and similar crimes.

   You pull out your ID after when you notice that your lady is finishing up with her client and put it under the scanner, careful that your thumb covers the expiration date so it doesn’t actually send through. You repeat this process three more times until she says her pleasantries to the retreating customer, then huff again and make your way to where the line for help is supposed to begin. You make a point of looking to the woman and meeting her eyes, completely ignoring the man so she will feel more obligated to help you. Although, the way her face lights in pleasant recognition tells you that that last step may not have been as necessary as you thought.

   It also tells you that she remembers your very quick conversation after this bit time. Although, her recognition could just be that not many people return here within a week.

   “Hello! How may I help you?” she asks cheerfully. You step over to the counter and smile back.

   “Hi! The scanner thingy is just glitching out, but I believe we have met before?”

   “I believe we have, yes. It’s nice seeing you again.”

   “You too.”

   The man enters the conversation with a surprisingly high-pitched voice, “Would you like me to take a look at the scanner, Allie?”

    _Allie, that’s right! Not Alice..._

   “That would be helpful while things are slow, yes. Thank you.”

   “Yup.”

   You lean onto the counter, “How have you been, Allie?”

   “I’ve been well, how about yourself?”

   “Just about the same.” How does one make small talk? How does one bring up the actual reason why they’re here? Well, there’s one fail-proof way of doing it, and pretty much the only way you know how…

   “I actually don’t have an appointment,” you whisper, carefully monitoring your surroundings, “You’re a slave sympathiser, right? Please tell me you are.”

   …Be very blunt and to the point.

   The way her whole body tenses, face blushes, eyes go wide, and how she inhales sharply tells you that you hit the mark. Although, you don’t really know where to from here. You used up pretty much every ounce of courage you had to ask that, and now you have to somehow subtly calm down a stranger before someone notices her reaction and becomes curious of your interactions. You should learn how to plan things more thoroughly, or better yet, just follow the plans you have already made.

   “Hey- woah, It’s alright, I- I really mean no trouble. You could say- I just- I’m kind of in the same boat. As you I mean.”  _Smooth, anxiety. Very smooth._  At least you were almost silent in calming her; no one could have possibly heard you.

   “Oh.” Allie states dumbly. She spends a couple more seconds processing before sighing out another “oh” in relief and letting herself relax. She turns to you with a newfound curiosity, still cautious.

   “...What was it that you needed?” she becomes just as hushed as you.

   You take a breath and think about how you’re going to word your inquiry. “I just wanted to know if you happened to know anything about the local rebels?”

   She drops her gaze, which seems to look through wherever her eyes are supposed to be looking at. “No… No I don’t… I know that sometimes people claim that they’ve met a rebel in the poorer parts of town, but I always thought those stories were fake, so did the police, considering they really only look for them in the immediate areas of where they’ve supposedly been sighted by the people who reported them.” She raises her eyes, but they still see through the world it looks like, “I never thought that they’d dare to come this close to, well, The ESE capital basically.” She finally focuses back on you, “You’re really going to try joining them? With who your father is? Isn’t that super risky? Like, more risky than for someone like me?”

   You nod determinedly, tapping into that determination you felt earlier that morning. She nods back solidly, as opposed to her worried and curious aura from just before. …Is she feeding off of your mimic of confidence? The confidence that you are barely maintaining right now, and are only fighting to keep because you so desperately want to prove to this almost-stranger that you  _need_  to do this? You didn’t even know that something like this was possible for someone like you.

   It only makes you more sure of what you’re trying to do.

   You both catch the exact moment when the other desk worker has finished messing with the machine and make eye contact. You’re about to thank her and repeat the rehearsed pleasantries everyone knows, but she beats you to speaking.

   “And there we go! I have just scheduled your appointment for this upcoming Saturday afternoon…” She begins to hastily write something on one of their small appointment cards, “And use the number listed on the card if you have any problems or need to reschedule again!” She offers you the small piece of paper. You take it and stash it in your wallet, noting that there is a lot more written on it than just a date.

   “Thank you very much! Have a lovely day!”

   “You too!”

   You force yourself to calmly waltz back out the doors, and don’t hesitate to jump in the passenger seat and pull out the business card when Kyungsoo silently opens your car door. You  steady your shaking hands and attempt to make yourself focus enough to try to read Allie’s note, which is most definitely not just a date and time. You’re distantly aware of Kyungsoo starting the car and driving it a short distance before stopping again.

   “Y/n.” You hum in lieu of a real response. “Would you like me to read it to you while I wait for an opportunity to turn?”

   “That’d be helpful. Thank you.”

   He nods and takes the paper, reading aloud as he scans through it.

   “She wrote down a phone number and wrote ‘If you find them, please call me. I get home at eight.’ How does it feel to inspire someone into joining a cause you believe in, Y/n? I don’t think this has ever happened before.”

   “I feel like I didn’t really do anything?” Your shaking has thankfully slowed, but it’s still noticeable. “I feel like all I did was tell her that there might be a chance that rebels could be around here. And what if it’s a trap.”

   “I highly doubt it is, unless she has a degree in acting or something similar, which does not appear to be the case. Maybe that bit of information was all it took for her to make this decision.” He pauses to finally turn and squeeze onto the busy road. “You grew up with people like your step-parents and the mistreatment of slaves around you for all of your life, so you have been desensitized to those types of things to a degree without realizing it. If what you told us about your conversation with her before is true, then it appears that she is likely a part of the lower or lower-middle class, and hadn’t been around enough slaves and slave owners to know the true extent of most of their abuse until a close family member was taken and practically forced her to learn more. So the information you offered and your fabricated confidence could have easily been all she needed to gain the confidence to fight as well. She may have even already made up her mind before, and just needed an opportunity or a sign to act. Though, you should try to gain some real confidence, Y/n. You’re doing amazing things for us just by trying like this.”

   You take a deep breath. He’s right. The way she reacted when you correctly accused her of being a slave sympathiser looked too genuine unless she was an actor of some kind, and while you don’t know her or her past at all, you know that Kyungsoo has proven to have good intuition about people, so you’ll trust that he’s right yet again in this scenario.

   “Thanks, Kyungsoo.”

   “Of course.”

   A beat of silence passes. You get a sudden craving for food, which isn’t uncommon after properly calming down from a small (or any size, for that matter) freak out. You’re in the mood for something light, but still has some substance, and sweet, but not sugar sweet. You just had pastries a couple of hours ago, so you’re not quite in the mood for something like that, which would otherwise probably be a good match of what you’re craving. After several more minutes of pondering and mentally visualizing what’s in your kitchen, you turn to Kyungsoo.

   “Do you remember if we still have those good fruit drinks in the fridge?”

   “I don’t believe we do, would you like to stop by the store to get some?”

   “Yes please.”

   He nods a response and merges lanes, preparing to take a left a few intersections down. Once he does (after waiting an irritating thirteen minutes for the light to change), he pulls into the store parking lot, then gets out to open your door. You notice that you slip into your “My father is rich and powerful so don’t fuck with me” persona much easier than usual, and you aren’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing. You decide it’s good, as you walk into the store and silently continue inside while D.O. grabs a shopping basket. If it’s easier to pretend to be this horrible person, then it could help fool the actual horrible people into trusting you, which will be very useful if you ever find the rebels– if they let you join, that is.

   You’re almost to the correct refrigerated aisle when you snap out of your thoughts, having walked in this direction without realizing it. You’ll have to try harder to stay in the present while out in public. The last thing you need is to be caught off guard or be seen tripping over something or someone, it’d ruin the new facade you’re working on perfecting.

   “Which of these flavors will best fit my diet.” you order Kyungsoo to answer. This is code to ask what he wants and what he thinks the others would like.

   “With the exception of ‘Pomegranate Berry Bounce’ and ‘Apple Grape Banana-za’, all flavors can fit seamlessly within your diet, M’lady.” he rattles off mechanically, just as a slave should. Hopefully there will be a time where he won’t have to do that.

   You let out a low hmph, which is code for “thank you”, and move to collect one of each flavor. This brand is pretty cheap and the quality is good enough, so you have no problem splurging a bit on them. Besides, with the morning everyone had and the afternoon you just had, these drinks may be a sight for sore eyes. You know they are for your eyes, anyway.

   Now that the basket that Kyungsoo is still holding diligently is filled with bottles of pre-made fruit-drink-smoothie-blend-things (it occurs to you that you don’t really know what exactly these are, beyond vegan drinks made with fruit), you start your journey to the cash registers, once again not waiting for Kyungsoo to follow nor glancing back to make sure he is, just as a normal slave owner would. Your footsteps are quickly echoed, so you know he is now right behind you. You almost slip and let a small, relieved smile escape, but you catch it at the last moment and school your expression back safely to a careful poker face, once again noting that it is just slightly easier than normal to do so now.

   You’re actually kind of proud of yourself. You’re becoming quite the actor if you do say so yourself.

   “Miss Y/l/n! Miss Y/l/n!”

   And every trace or pride and relief scurries away with that stranger’s shout.

   Your heart lurches and you tense up against your will. You barely manage to school your expression into one more welcoming and indifferent as you turn around to face the man that called you. Except you’re not just met with just one man– who is holding a microphone, now that you’re looking– but also a camerawoman as well. You are just able to hide the scowl that oh-so-desperately wants to overtake your face. What the heck do these people want? What do they think they’re going to get from you? Haven’t these people learned by now that you won’t accept these types of things?

   “Hello. May I help you?”

   “Yess, hello, I’m with the Channel 14 news and was hoping you could answer a few questions for us?” You don’t get time to refuse before he shoots the first question. “What are your thoughts on the new slave law that will take effect this coming Monday?”

   New slave law? What is this about? You suppose you can go along with this for just a few minutes to find out...

   “I apologize, but I have been rather busy with my art business the past few weeks and haven’t had the chance to keep up with any current events. I was unaware that a new slave law was being considered.”

   “Ah. Yes ma’am. It states that any child with a parent or grandparent that is or was a slave will become enslaved themselves. It has been stated by The Emberline’s Slave Exchange that the purpose of this law is to discourage people from having personal relations with slaves, and encourage slave owners to find real partners in order to create heirs, rather than breeding with their legally registered slaves. It was also stated that in theory, this could widen the demographic of people who will be able to afford to buy slaves, as this could open jobs and lower prices for certain slaves. We would like to know your thoughts on this as the daughter of Mister Y/l/n, who signed to approve it.”

   What? How could something like that be passed? How could our father encourage this? Does this have to do with what you told him about Nylah? Is this his way opening opportunities to get rid of her without soiling his name? You’re going to have a talk with him on the way home. What happens to the people who had a slave parent? Will they be sent off into camps, even if they weren’t aware that they were related to a slave?

   ...Wasn’t Minseok’s biological father a slave? Or was it grandfather? You hope to whatever higher power may or may not be out there that you’re remembering wrong. Someone as kind and loyal and determined as him doesn’t deserve that life. He already raised in a “poorly behaved” family, he doesn’t deserve to live the rest of his life with someone worse.

   Time to test out your “improved” acting skills. You aren’t going to try to just leave now, not when you can possibly sway some people’s opinions. You made a promise to your makeshift family, and you intend to keep it. You can start making that difference here, as long as you word it correctly, which you’re fairly certain you can do.

   “My opinion on the matter should be taken with a grain of salt, as I don’t know much on the matter and I tend to be pessimistic about large changes, but I personally believe that this may affect our economy rather poorly instead. As you said before, this will create job openings, but who’s to say that the jobs that have been opened will be replaced by citizens who are legally allowed to work?

   “From my experience, humans as a whole are a naturally greedy species, so when widening the demographic of people who can purchase slaves and opening job positions at the same time, who’s to say that the entrepreneurs won’t simply buy their own slaves out of pocket to fill in the gaps, rather than hire able-bodied people? Why wouldn’t they simply replace their entire staff if they could afford the single down payment of however many slaves, rather than have to pay a biweekly or monthly payment to get the same work done? In this scenario it would lead to even less jobs for the working class, who will then either commit to a life of homelessness or turn to crime to support themselves, which could then lead to those desperate people becoming slaves themselves if they are caught, and thus adding to the problem in the larger picture.

   “However, I have full faith that the council had discussed this when the bill for this law was first proposed, and have come up with a plan and certain measures to counteract the natural greed of humans. As I said, I don’t know much about this new law, seeing as I have been very preoccupied and, contrary to popular belief, I don’t get any information that has been deemed classified by The Emberline’s Slave Exchange, so I will only ever know as much as the public does. If my father deems this law beneficial to not only to the company, but to this entire nation as well, then I will trust that he and the round table have thought of everything, since he has been known to be a thorough man.”

   You do not trust your father whatsoever. He is going to get an earful from you as soon as you’re in the privacy of your home. He has some questions he is going to answer.

   “That is very insightful, Miss Y/l/n. And speaking of your father being a thorough man, can you confirm or deny the rumors that your father will be the one appointed as the new CEO of the company?”

   Ah, this isn’t one of those “about the topic” discussions that you get occasionally. These people want to learn more about you, your father, and the inner workings of The ESE. Oh well, you know better now at least. You don’t regret saying what you did, but maybe no more “talking in essays” as Minseok once called it all those years ago.

   “I can not, but I can confirm that he is within a selected group of people that are being considered and evaluated for the position. I wish all them the best of luck.”

   “Just one more question, a more personal one if you don’t mind. People have speculated that you rarely leave your property, and when you do it has always been with the same two slaves. Although, in recent weeks you have been seen outside more often and with a multitude of other slaves. Can you state the reasoning behind this?”

   This is such bull shit. You want to just leave now and let this be over, but you can’t not answer the man. That would look suspicious, especially with your long, detailed answer to his first question.

   “It simply costs much less to upkeep two slaves versus the average of thirty to sixty of my area, and having that many slaves takes up space that I could use as storage or the like as well. I also live alone, so my manor does not get nearly as messy as I imagine someone with a family’s would. Call me minimalistic, but I just don’t feel the need to have more slaves than absolutely necessary. Recently, I have simply decided that three more slaves were necessary, that’s all.”

   “That is quite the interesting opinion on the amount of slaves one should have. Your main reasoning seems to be the preservation of funds and space, but to our knowledge you own a three story manor and run a growing art business, so, please correct me if I’m wrong, these two factors shouldn’t be an issue.”

   You’re about to lose your patience, and your heart is about to break out of your chest from the speed it’s pounding at. Your next reply is less calm and collected than your other ones, and you’re afraid that it’s noticeable. If it is, they don’t react.

   “Perhaps, but it never hurt anyone to have money stockpiled up in the case of emergency. I, like my father, try my best to be prepared for the unexpected. Plus, it is widely known among the public that I am not very trusting of new people. That unfortunately includes the ones that have become slaves, somehow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe that the question before last was claimed to be your final one, and I must get back to my manor before these drinks spoil.” You finally turn to leave, using every last ounce of self control to not noticeably tremble or tense up.

   “That is quite a lot of smoothies your slave is holding, miss, are you hosting a gathering of any sort?”

   You finally snap in the calmest way possible. You spin around to face the offender again after sucking in a deep breath.

   “No, I simply like this brand and they fit my into diet rather well, so I have been drinking them quite frequently. Now please, I really do not want to have to call my father’s security but I am trying to go home now. I need to educate myself in the details of this new law and continue preparations for the upcoming art fair that’s being held just out of town, and right now you are keeping me from doing so.” You take in the slightly taken-aback expressions and stances (you’ve never stood up against any form of media before, so this is shocking for them) for just a moment before whirling back in the direction of the cashiers. You don’t pause as you turn your head and call back “I’ll taking my leave now. Have a good rest of your day.”

   Thankfully, no one gathered along the ends of the isle to watch the impromptu interview, so you are able to escape quickly. You decide to bypass the lines to the cashiers and head straight to the small– and empty– self-checkout section. The last thing you need is more human interactions when you’re barely holding it together as it is. You’re hyper aware of the way D.O. keeps briefly glancing at you while he scans the bottles, and you want to tell him to stop because there are plenty of people here at the front of the store who may notice and comment on it, but you can’t find your voice. Quite frankly, you’re having trouble finding your lungs right now too.

   After paying, you lead the way out of the store and to your car as calmly as you can make yourself. You spent the next chunk of time trying to force your mind back into a state that is calm and attentive and present enough to make a phone call to your father. When you finally feel somewhat ready to call him, you’re already almost home. You decide it would be smart to lock yourself in your room while you try to get your explanations, this way your father can’t hear any of the guys if they start talking or messing around downstairs, and you don’t have as many distractions keeping you from getting to the point.

   Kyungsoo finally parks and turn off the car. You hop out before he can try to say anything and open your front door. Ignoring the few greetings coming from in the living area, you climb up the stairs two steps at a time, lock yourself in your room, and pull out your phone, tapping your father’s contact name. It rings once…

   ...twice…

   ...thrice…

   ...fou-

   “Y/n? Is something the matter?”

   You take a deep breath before speaking.

   “I was roped into an impromptu questioning supposedly by a small Channel 14 news team and I was asked about a new law being put in place this Monday?”

   “Oh, you were unaware of this? Have you not watched any television or gotten on the internet at all today?”

   “No, I’ve been busy with making art for the festival in a week and a half and trying to get Sehun and Suho into the swing of things. Marking any child born from a slave parent from now on as a slave I can understand, but the reporter made it seem like you were going to take and enslave  _anyone_  who has a slave as a biological parent. Regardless of age.”

   “Yes. As far back as grandparent, actually.”

   “That’s even worse!” you whisper yell, “Do you know what this is going to do for the economy? It’ll crash!”

   “It will not be, it will open up job-”

   “And the business owners replace all of their staff with slaves because they’ll be able to afford it with the predicted drop in price! And none of you will make it illegal to make slaves work for businesses because that’s exactly what The ESE-”

   “We have already thought of this and have come up with ways to prevent that scenario from happening.”

   “How many of your business partners and our friends have a grandparent who was a slave?”

   “Not as many as you think, dear-”

   “How many owners are just going to do what they will with their slaves just to get more slaves for free-”

   “That is enough, child! I have told you we already have all of this figured out! We will take precautions as needed. We have plans to repeal the law legalizing sexual slaves so that will not be of concern! It is not your place to tell me how to do my job!”

   You need to calm down again, and you’re never going to get anywhere with him. You never have, and you probably never will. Besides, you have someone else you need to call before your nerves make you go completely brain dead. It doesn’t help that your father is beginning to yell, which makes your nerves spike up even when it isn’t aimed at you like it just was.

   “I am very aware of that. I apologize. Goodbye.”

   You hang up before your father can retaliate and quickly search through your contacts for Minseok. Unlike your father, he picks up on the first ring.

   “Hello-”

   “Do you know about the new law?” you rush out.

   “Yes… Yes I do.” Minseok sounds so defeated and quiet that you can’t deny it anymore.

   “Your biological grandfather was a slave.” It wasn’t a question.

   He sighs miserably, “Yes…”

   You hurry over to your desk and glare at the calendar laying on it. Today is Tuesday, but it’s the evening, so you can’t really count today in your planning anymore. That means there are five days until this law takes effect.

   “Do you have any plans at all?”

   “I don’t have a passport or a visa to leave the country, and even if I did, I’m sure every ticket up to Monday is sold out by now. Plus I’d still be a citizen here, so I don’t think I’d ever be able to actually escape even if I made it out. And you and my parents are the only ones who know I even had a slave grandfather. Who the fuck could I trust with not only my own life, but Baekhyun’s as well, Y/n? Because I sure as hell am not going to leave him to the wolves if I don’t absolutely have to. He’s my best friend.”

   You figured he didn’t have a plan yet, not on this short of a notice. You understand from the ESE’s corrupted point of view that they had to make this announcement as last-minute as possible so less people could find loopholes in the law somehow, but it doesn’t make you any less disgusted and livid. If anything that fact makes you more so.

   “How long will it take to drive from where you are to here, considering that planes will be filled by now.”

   “Uhh… Like, six hours with good traffic… But Y/n, are you implying what I’m thin-”

   “Yes I am. I am a slave owner who happens to be the daughter of a top candidate for CEO of the ESE and have no slave genes in my blood to anyone’s knowledge. That, and I’m still one of your best friends, right? And you know exactly how I treat everyone here.” When he doesn’t respond after a few moments, you continue, “You have five days to pack everything you can and get here before you and Baekhyun get sent off to camps. We already happen to have two furnished rooms ready to go for you guys. All you need to do is pack up everything you need or find valuable and come here. I can handle everything else to make sure you stay right here under my care.”

   A few seconds pass and he still hasn’t made a sound. You didn’t really give him a choice in the matter of coming here, did you? Maybe he feels like they’re being forced into this? Maybe he’s upset because he doesn’t really want to live here, or doesn’t want Baekhyun to live here, but has no better option.

   “...Did you...  _want_  to come here..? ‘Cause-”

   “Of course I do!” He shouts, choked up. He sniffles and continues with a shaky voice, “I just-... It’s been years since- since we’ve even talked to each other, y’know? And now- just two phone calls and a shitty law later-...” he clears his throat, “I’m just glad you’re here for me. I was really panicking about what to do.” He starts whimpering and breathing more heavily on the other end of the line. Your heart aches for him, and you want nothing more than to comfort him, but you aren’t exactly sure how to go about that over the phone.

    “Everything was going well- *hic* and then this happened out of- *gasp* nowhere. *sniff* I was so stressed and scared,” he takes a moment to try to get his breathing and crying under control, “I was scared I was going to die at the camps, or at the hands of a slave owner, or Baekhyun was going to, after everything I managed to build for myself here.” He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, turning out calm, “Thank you so much, Y/n. I trust you to take care of us.”

   “I’ll try my best to give back as much of the life you had before today.”

   “I know you will, but don’t jeopardize yourself for us. Getting to stay safe and happy with people I trust is way more than what I could ask for in this situation. Thank you.”

   “Of course, anything for the one actual friend I have.” You huff a laugh.

   He huffs another breath, in attempts to calm down or as a weak imitation of laughter, you’re not sure, but it effectively lessens the somber mood. “Okay, I’m gonna start packing now. I’ll probably start driving down there Sunday morning so I can be settled at your place by Sunday night. I’ll be driving my zombie killer, so I hope you widened your driveway.”

   “That was one of the first things I did when I renovated parts of this manor.”

    Minseok’s “zombie killer” is a truck so wide that it just manages to fit in an average car lane, and it’s long and tall enough to make the width look almost perfectly proportional. If you remember correctly, he doesn’t love driving the grey, black, and forest green truck, but does anyway when he needs to move large and/or a lot of things. The only reason he bought it was to spite his parents, who wanted him to buy one of those tiny, eco-friendly vehicles, it just happens to be useful from time to time. You used to always feel bad for the people driving behind Minseok whenever he decided to use it for something.

   “Good.” You think you can hear the small smile in his voice, but then he moves on. “Alright, I guess I’ll let you go now. We have a lot to pack and cram into the zombie killer by the end of Saturday so…”

   “Okay! Don’t worry about packing snacks or anything like that because you have a lot of money that’s about to just go to waste or be deleted. Might as well use what’s left of it on something.”

   “Yeah. Thank you again so much. You are, in the most literal sense, a life saver.”

   “You’re welcome, and it’s no problem. Just get here safely, yeah?”

   “Will do. Have a good evening, see ya in a few days.”

   “You too. See ya.”

   One problem solved, one more to go. Well, one more that you can think of at the moment, anyway. In a few minutes you’ll probably start finding other problems to panic and stress over too. You slump to the ground, exhausted and fried after the day you’ve had, and that second problem you need to solve is finding and joining the rebels, which means, if the information Allie gave you this morning is correct, it’s going to be a very late night tonight. You know you need to rest and recharge before then, but you don’t want to abandon the guys downstairs. However, a few minutes decompressing here on the floor couldn’t hurt, right?

   It feels like only a minute or two has gone by when someone knocks on your door. You can tell by just the rhythm and volume of the knock that it’s Jongdae, and you call for him to enter. When he calls back saying that the door is locked, you force yourself off of your floor with a huff and shuffle over to unlock it for him. You open the door just enough for him to know that it is unlocked now, but wander back to your bed and plop down on it face down, suddenly feeling all of today’s activities weighing down on your shoulders. You hear the door click close, then a few footsteps, then feel something pleasantly cold press between your shoulder blades.

   “Kyungsoo said this was your favorite flavor, so I thought I’d bring it up to you.”

   You roll onto your back and move up on your bed so you’re leaning comfortably against the headboard. Jongdae silently hands you your fruit drink, but instead of sitting on the bed with you like you expected, he appears to be contemplating leaving you alone again. Normally, that would be a fantastic thing for him to do, but something in you has gotten so used to his presence that it almost felt wrong to not have him with you today. Therefore, instead of letting him come to the conclusion to leave like you normally would have, you scoot over just a bit, and pat the space on your bed next you you expectantly.

   Jongdae gets the hint, and after a quick glance from him– silently asking if it was really alright that he stay and sit on your bed– and a sharp nod from you– silently telling him to stop worrying and to hurry up already– he gets on the bed too. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating off of him, which is normal nowadays. On a whim, you decide that if Jongdae could rest your head of your shoulders accidentally, and vice versa, then it should be alright to lean your head against his shoulder  _purposefully_ , right?

   The only problem is you don’t usually initiate touches. If someone you know was offering a hug or someone wanted a hand shake, you’d give it to them because that’s what the socially accepted thing to do was. Otherwise, you aren’t usually a “cuddle-bug”. Although, you’ve never really been close to anyone beyond Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, and Minseok, so you haven’t had much experience in the matter.

   Finally gaining enough courage to try, you cautiously lean your head to the right and gently lay your head on his shoulder, giving plenty of time for him to scoot away of cause a distraction. He doesn’t even so much as freeze up. You like to think that he let you do this not because he was conditioned to. You’d like to think that Jongdae realizes by now that he isn’t trapped, and realistically you know that he is aware of this, but your anxiety loves to make you overthink things all the time.

   Then Jongdae’s head is leaning down and laying on your own, and someone uncomfortable with this situation wouldn’t do that. Hell, you normally wouldn’t even allow it, but here it is, happening, and everything’s fine. Everything is going to be fine too, maybe not now, maybe not soon, but eventually it will be. With this thought and a smile, you take your first sip of your drink, albeit somewhat awkwardly with how your head is positioned. Jongdae seems to notice your struggle because he lifts his head upright so you can do the same.

   “Kyungsoo mentioned an interview?”

   That is all the invitation you need to explain in detail what transpired that day. Your little act this morning with the card scanner, what you and Allie talked about, deciding on the way home to get snacks and thus being forced into an interview by an unwritten social contract, what your father told you, and, finally, what you and Minseok had just planned.

   “So he’s going to be living with us starting Sunday evening?”

   “Yes.”

   “And what if the government takes them away from you before you can get them registered under your name? Or if you get denied because you are close friends? Because I’m sure plenty of others are planning the same thing.”

   “The others don’t have an almost-CEO of the ESE for a father who can allow me to register them before the law takes effect, though. A father that also never cared to learn who my friends were when I was younger, so he probably won’t recognize them. Hopefully.”

   “And if he does? Or he doesn’t want to give you special treatment?”

   “If he does I’ll claim that I had no clue who he was and that I only found him visually pleasing. And my father not spoiling me? And treating me like everyone else? Are we thinking of the same guy?”

   “Well, it was just early last month you were worrying about him cutting your entire allowance for talking back to your stepmother…”

   “That was before I knew he was actually on my side. Or more accurately, against hers.”

   “That is true.”

   An easy silence falls across the room, and the two of you finish your drinks. You hand your cup to Jongdae, who silently offers to put it on the end table by holding out his hand and pointedly glancing towards the furniture. You carefully and slowly lean against Jongdae’s arm, relishing in the soothing warmth it brings. Your heart simultaneously calms and sings when he leans back, loving how much he trusts you now, and how much you can trust him. That, and while Chanyeol and Kyungsoo would likely do the same thing, you three have known each other for many years now and have gone through very long rough patches with each other, so it doesn’t feel the same as having someone be this comfortable with you and vice versa after only about two months.

   “What are we going to do about the rebels, though? This Allie person supposedly didn’t have any information…”

   “Well, she did tell us that people supposedly see the rebels over in the poorer parts of the city at night. How these people were able to tell if they were rebels I have no clue.”

   “You actually believe that?” He turns a bit towards you. “I think it was either her getting you off her back, or other people in those parts either trying to get someone sentenced into slavery or get the bounty that can be offered in exchange for finding sympathizers.”

   “I plan on video calling her after she gets off of work tonight to make sure she isn’t going to sell me out. I really don’t think she would though.”

   “What makes you think that?”

   “Kyungsoo trusts her.”

   Jongdae expectantly waits a few seconds as if he’s waiting for you so continue your reasoning. He figures out then that this is all the reasoning you have.

   “...That’s all?”

   “You’ll grow to learn that Kyungsoo’s intuition of people might as well be a background check.”

   “If you trust his judgement, then I’ll trust it too. Do we have a game plan?”

   “I kinda do, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it too much.”


	11. The Search Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Verbal Fight, Physical Harm, Drunk people (they’re not aggressive tho), Panic Attack based off of one I’ve had

   “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, can’t we get arrested for just roaming around here at night?” Jongdae inquires, wringing his hands together and glancing every which way.

   “You didn’t seem to have any qualms about this earlier, Jo- en. Chen.” Chanyeol steps out of your older car, which has been parked in a vacant– and probably long-since abandoned, seeing how unkept it is here– parking lot behind a shopping complex. “What’s changed your mind?”

   “It just sank in how dangerous it is to split up. I stand by my reasoning earlier, it would be much safer to all go together. We could have each other’s back.”

   “I understand where your worrying is coming from, but it would look more suspicious to authorities if we remain together as one group. Splitting up will also cover more ground.” Kyungsoo tries to settle the blond.

   “I’m not just talking about the police, I’m also talking about the people that live here. We aren’t exactly hiding our wealth, even if we’re all in older, plain hoodies and jeans. People around here probably won’t have things of this quality and they will know we have some sort of valuables. What if someone tries to mug one of us out of desperation? The crime rate in this area is sky high...”

   You repeat what you said earlier today when he brought up this concern. “The crime rate isn’t even that bad, you’re just used to there being pretty much no crime at all by where we live. Besides, we already went over the pairs we’re splitting off into. The most and the most experienced together, me and Chanyeol, then the two middle men together, you and D.O.. You guys will be able to take care of yourselves, and Chanyeol and I can work to protect each other in different ways.”

   “I guess... Just- stay safe you two. Try not to get caught, or mugged, or-”

   “We won’t Chen. You won’t either.” you smile.

   Kyungsoo breaks the moment, “We meet back here at 2 am, correct?”

   “Correct.” “Yes.” “Yup!”

   “Well then, we’ll see you then, Y/n. Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo turns and heads right towards the alley between some run-down apartment buildings, not waiting to see if Jongdae follows behind. He does hesitantly.

   “Remember to call each other by your slave names!” you call after them over your shoulder, heading in the opposite direction towards a low-income neighborhood, “Anybody could be listening!”

   “Will do!”

   “‘ _Anyone could be listening_ ’ you shout across the parking lot with apartments and stuff on both ends.” Chanyeol teases, playfully shoving your arm.

   “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

   “I do, which is why I just said that.”

   You shove his arm back, causing him to laugh, but thankfully not retaliate. “So we’re just looking around and stuff? How do we know if anyone we find is part of the rebels? How do we know they’re even here?”

   Chanyeol looks down in thought, “We don’t, not really… I assume there’s some kind of passcode in the case that we actually do find them in the next few nights.”

   He pulls back a chunk of the chain link fence that separates the old, small houses and the rundown shopping area. You easily climb through the gap made, then turn around to hold the piece for him as you continue the discussion.

   “You don’t think we’ll find them?”

   He crawls through and straightens himself out before he responds. “Nah, I don’t think so. It can’t be this easy to find some of the most illegal people there are in this day and age.” He begins walking along the heavily cracked and stained sidewalk.

   “That is true. So what are you going to do if we  _do_  happen to find them?”

   “Honestly? I don’t know. I’d be very skeptical then very shocked, I know that much. I dunno, I’m not gonna worry about that until later, though. How do you think Chen and D.O. are gonna do? Do you think they’ll get caught by anyone?”

   “No, they’ll be fine, I’m sure. And even if they do, if it’s the police they’ll call me, if it’s not, I’m sure they can handle themselves. Wasn’t D.O. trained in self-defense combat or something?”

   The two of you round a corner and continue down a road that had definitely seen some better days. You move only your eyes to look around for any danger or anyone at all, but are met with a silent stillness that creeps into your chest and grips at your chest, causing your heart-rate to pick up a bit. You manage to take a few, steadying breaths and force everything back to normal again. Chanyeol, probably noticing that you’re fine again, answers you question from a few minutes before in a more hushed volume than before.

   “Yes, he was, but that was also, like, six years ago, and he hasn’t really practiced much as far as I’ve noticed.”

   “He must have practiced or trained at some point,” you counter, copying his quiet tone, “there’s no way he could stay that fit on the foods we eat and metabolism alone.”

   “I suppose so. He does kind of just do his own thing, so I wouldn’t be completely surprised if he found a way to keep in shape while outside or something. I should probably start doing that myself, actually, considering...”

   “I think you’re just fine. I would say  _I_  should, but…”

   He finishes for you trail off, “Your parents would become curious on why you’re suddenly trying harder to get more fit, and the last thing we need right now is more attention.”

   “Yeah.”

   “Besides, I highly doubt you’re going to be ‘on the field’ or anything like that, so there’s no need. You’re perfectly fine the way you are.”

   You ignore the compliment because you have no clue how to properly accept them.“Yeah. I hope they put me somewhere closer to undercover work and gathering information from my dad, which I’ve already started doing.”

   “I think we’ve all noticed.”

   The conversation ends there for no specific reason, and the silence is almost deafening at first. There are little to no noises from car engines, there’s no people walking out and about beyond you and Chanyeol, no one is partying or playing music, no kids playing ‘manhunt’, no one selling questionable items in the corners hidden by shadows, nearly nothing is happening. Only the sounds of crickets and dogs barking in the distance and the even more distant rumble of city life that is easily ignored cancel the silence. After a minute or two of adjusting, it’s kind of nice.

   Nights in your manor are completely silent. You live in a very wealthy neighborhood, so not many people drive down your road as it is, plus you live a ways back from said road, so the occasional car the  _does_  drive through isn’t usually noticeable from inside your manor. This is the same reason why you rarely hear people and animals too. Your nearest neighbors are quite a ways away, and you’re sure they have butlers, maids, or (most likely) slaves that get their animals inside before they cause a mess or racket. The pest exterminator swings by your neighborhood once every few months with pesticides and traps, and once every month during the summer, so no bugs or critters beyond butterflies, deer, and an assortment of birds ever stick around your property for longer than a day. You’ve grown used to the complete silence and blackness of the night at the manor, so you find this hushed and dimly lit atmosphere strangely calming. Maybe you should invest in lights for your garden to make it glow, and maybe some more types of bird and other animal feeders, too.

   As you and Chanyeol walk down the old, barren neighborhood, you hear obnoxious voices coming down an adjacent road. A quick glance to your partner in (literal, by now) crime shows that he has tensed up a bit, which doesn’t help your climbing heart rate and deepening breaths, and you grip onto the bottom hem of his sweatshirt with two fingers to ground yourself and give you a reason to move slightly behind him. You know that outwardly you look completely fine, if not a little tense like Chanyeol is, but you know how quickly that can change if you don’t keep things under control as best as possible.

   The three strangers, three men, round the corner and turn towards you. Chanyeol puts on a forced relaxed act, while you tilt your head slightly down and shift your eyes to the men’s feet, watching them carefully while keeping your eyes lowered. The men quiet down for a moment, and you risk a quick glance up to their faces. two have pale skin, and the other has a slightly darker tone, their hair, from what you can tell, is done nicely if not a bit messy at the moment. Two of them are obviously drunk and the third seems to be escorting them home. You’ve overheard from people that this is how it sometimes is after the parties they went to, and you figure he’s almost done returning people home, or he was only there for those two.

   “Hey.” the sober one greets simply with a nod.

   “Hey.” Chanyeol answers as you say “Hello.”

   “Oh my god Brian! Look at her! She’s adorable!” the paler drunk man exclaims.

   The drunker of the two immediately slurs, “Dude! Don’t hit on ‘er! Yur drunk... and ‘er boyfrien’ righ’ there.”

   “Am not!” he stops walking with a pout, “It’s called fuckin’ compliments. ‘Nd you’re drunker than me. And he’s got a collar, so no boyfriend. Fuck you.”

   The sober of the three tries to lead the group away, “I am so sorry about these two, they really mean no harm-”

   “Fuck you Brian! Taking Stephan’s side again. No compliments for you! Fuck you.”

   “Be nicer. You... un-nice fuck.”

   “Take that back-”

   “I apologize again for these nut cases. Have a good night you two.” the sober one, Brian apparently, says over his shoulder while forcibly moving the other two along the sidewalk behind you.

   “You too, stay safe getting home.” you respond automatically.

   “We’ll try.”

   “Thank you miss! Goodnight! I love you!” the less-drunk man waves with a big smile.

   “No- Allen- What the fuck?” Brian hisses.

   “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Itwa’ just instinct, y’know.” he half calls back to you.

   The last thing you’re able to clearly make out is Brian sighing loudly and speaking hushed tones. You and Chanyeol decide to turn the opposite way from where they came from in hopes to avoid whatever party they’re returning from. Chanyeol is the first to say anything.

   “That was… interesting.”

   “And that had a much different outcome than what I was expecting.”

   “We aren’t living in a movie, not every drunk is violent.”

   “I know, but still.”

   You keep walking along sidewalks and down roads, only breaking the silence to point out some random thing, such as an odd yard decoration or a racoon. You spend hours roaming around, trying to find any clues that the rebels were there at some point, but you don’t find much. The only somewhat incriminating thing you guys found was some graffiti on a cinderblock wall that said “ _Our Government is MONARCHY hiding in Plain Sight!_ ” and “ _Chokers Are Out Of Style Fuckers_ ”, but that’s where it started and ended. By 2:15 am you and Chanyeol have made it back to the broken fence.

   Through the mostly rusted wires, you see that both Kyungsoo and Jongdae are waiting by the car, Jongdae pacing back and forth and messing with his hands and Kyungsoo sitting on the hood of the car and bouncing the leg that’s propped up.

   “You gonna keep staring or are you gonna crawl through?” Chanyeol’s voice breaks all three of you from your trance, the other two freezing on the spot.

   “Yea, here.” You do exactly as he asked, then hold the wiring up for him to get through. When you turn back around, Jongdae is right in front of you, looking you over in a scrutinizing manor.

   “Are you two okay? You’re twenty minutes late. Did anything happen?” He immediately glues himself very close on your left side.

   “No,” Chanyeol poorly suppresses chuckle in front of you, “nothing happened, chill dude.” He starts walking to the car. “We aren’t hurt, and we didn’t really find anything about rebels, either. Did you guys run into any trouble?”

   “Not particularly.” Kyungsoo hops off of the hood, “And we didn’t find anything relating to the rebellion either. This is somewhat irritating, if not expected.”

   “So, do we try again tomorrow?” Jongdae opens the passenger door, an action that looks almost reluctantly done by him. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a point of walking past him and make eye contact with Chanyeol, who was getting ready to sit in the back seat. He gets the hint and backtracks to where Jongdae is still standing with the door open.

   “I’d say so. Try again here but search in different places. Maybe try a different place altogether the day after tomorrow if we still don’t find anything?” You open the back seat door and get in, and watch with an amused smile as Jongdae goes from very confused to very pleased and moves to the other side of the car to get in.

   “Minseok and Baekhyun are scheduled to arrive Sunday, correct?” Kyungsoo continues after your nod, “Are we continuing this search while he is there? Or are we going to lay low?”

   Jongdae answers for you while he climbs in, “I’d lay low. If I’m not mistaken, your father is going to be on your case when he finds out you’re taking in one of your best friends and his slave as your own.”

   “That’s what I was thinking as well.” you nod in thought. The car starts and begins moving. “But I doubt he’ll remember Minseok clearly enough for it to be trouble. It’s been years, and even then Minseok made himself scarce back then.”

   “So,” Chanyeol starts, “we search hard these next three nights, then take a break and stop when they get here, then play it by ear while your parents are watching you like a hawk because you’ve been acting noticeably different lately.”

   “Yeah.” you nod again.

   “Alright. Sounds like a plan!”

   Jongdae scoots to the right just a tad, towards the center seat, and turns to you. “Are we telling Minseok and Baekhyun about any of this?”

   “Yes,” you answer with no hesitation. “He was the main person that made me see how unethical slavery is, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a part of some kind of rebellion group now. If not then he probably hasn’t joined because of his job or something like that.”

   “And you’re positive of this?”

   “Yes.” you once again say with no hesitation. You look into Jongdae’s eyes to prove how serious and confident you are, which in itself proves a lot. He doesn’t break eye contact as he responds.

   “Alright. I trust you.”

   The staring continues for a whole two seconds, and in the end it was you that broke it, predictably. The car’s center of gravity shifts when Kyungsoo pulls onto a road, causing you to lean in towards the center seat just a bit. If you happen to not move back to your spot against the door to stay closer to Jongdae’s calming presence, then what does it matter? Jongdae certainly doesn’t seem to mind, considering you see him shifting back to  _his_  original spot, closer to the center seat– and you– out of the corner of your eye.

   The rest of the car ride home is silent, everyone obviously exhausted. When you finally get home, everyone moves quickly and near-silently to their respective beds, careful to not wake Suho or Sehun up yet desperate for some sleep. 

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

   Three more nights of searching the more ghetto parts (a word that was apparently once used as a more racial term, rather than one strictly of class. Your stepfather said he was likely a young toddler when it began to lose its racial meaning) of the city for rebels later, you, Jongdae, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol still come up empty handed, besides some more graffiti.

   You can’t help but believe that it may be your fault they’re not showing themselves, if they’re even there. That unexpected interview with Channel 14 aired that same evening without your knowing, and while you were very pleasantly surprised that they hadn’t twisted any of your words or showed your mild threat of calling security on them on television, it still got you a lot of unwanted attention. Everyone in the area has been reminded or informed of your face and existence, and of your five– soon to be seven– slaves by extension. There aren’t as many pictures of you with all of them as there are of you and your father or someone else of power and/or wealth, but there are still more than you’d like. You have no doubt that at least some of the rebels saw your little interview.

   Then, on the fourth day of your small group sleeping in until nearly noon, almost twelve thousand dollars appear in your checking account. You only think to check because you wake up to an ominous text from Minseok advising you to “ _change your freaking bank information so your step parents can’t snoop at it ;)_ ” at ten. His second message sent to you is a nudge to get a new account altogether with the recommendation of a bank he trusts.

   Junmyeon volunteers to bring you to the bank so the others can sleep in a bit longer (he doesn’t know why you guys are suddenly sleeping in so late, but he claims to trust you when you say you aren’t doing anything bad). You’re completely prepared and out the door under an hour later. 

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •     

   The clock glows with the numbers 12:16 when Junmyeon turns onto your street after moving all of your money into your account with this new bank. Your property is in sight when you make the final decision to tell Junmyeon to continue driving to your step-parents’ mansion instead of turning into your driveway. You still have yet to meet with your father about getting the paperwork for two brand new slaves after these past few days.

   You’ve been trying to decide during this entire outing if you should go home first and have someone other than Junmyeon drive you to your stepparents’ place, because that place does not hold kind memories for him. You were originally going to do exactly that, but you decided that as long as Junmyeon stays by your side and it’s your father or one of his slaves that answers the door, everything should be perfectly fine.

   Luckily, he was home when you arrived, and it was on of your father’s slaves that answered the door. Nylah was off doing whatever she does within this large building, so you keep an eye out for her on your way to your father’s office. Once he calls you inside, you waste no time in telling him what you want done and why you can’t really take this to The ESE’s equivalent to customer service. It takes a long while to negotiate and argue terms and policies and to get him to allow you to take in a newer-than-brand-new slave who hasn’t been to any type of “training camp”, but you manage to convince him by reluctantly agreeing to apply for the “selective rehabilitation license” he mentioned a couple of weeks ago.

   You never once mention or hint at Minseok’s or Baekhyun’s names or identities during the debate, choosing to leave them as two nameless, pretty people you remember meeting once, knowing he’d refuse immediately if he knew whom this was about, considering you would have a “borderline unlawful relationship” with them starting late tonight. You’re equally anticipating and fearing the look on his face when he meets Minseok and Baekhyun for the first time as slaves, or sees their name(s) on the very thick stack of paperwork if one or both of them choose against having a separate slave name. You eventually leave with said paperwork and a promise to return before midnight.

   While you and Junmyeon are travelling down the road, chatting idly about easy topics to fill the silence and to get to know each other better (and to calm down Junmyeon because he was not unaffected by entering that place, but has been trying his hardest to not let it show), you spot a familiar, large truck parked on your driveway. Kyungsoo appears to be genuinely enjoying himself while unloading a box from the bed of the large truck with the help from a man with ginger hair. You grip the tiny file case you brought to hold all of your paperwork and important documents and roll down your window as the gate to your property opens and Junmyeon pulls into the long driveway.

   “Baekhyun!” you shout a greeting out of your window a few moments later. You hop out of the car the moment Junmyeon stops.

   “Hello, Y/n! It’s good to meet you in person again, even though the reason is pretty bad. But if you’re anything like you were during those phone calls and video chats, then you’re the only one I can trust with us.”

   Despite Minseok turning eighteen (the legal age to purchase slaves) and buying Baekhyun from his mother a whole three months before he moved away from this city, you’ve only met Baekhyun once, and that was before he became more relaxed like he is more recently. Minseok is two years older than you, so you two never shared any school classes, and he had to work jobs after school and on the weekends during his last year and a half or so of living here to save up for the move he’d been planning. The only reason you and Minseok even know each other is because he attended the same club as you for a few weeks when you were in sixth grade and he was in eighth. When he reappeared at (read: forcibly dragged to) a party your father dragged you to, your maturity and his child-like energy mixed well on top of sharing interests, and that was that.

   “I’m just glad you guys are going to be safe. I still feel bad that I can’t do anything to help everyone else affected by this.”

   “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. The only way to help everyone is if you stop the ESE or the government or something.”

   A quick check around tells you that Junmyeon already went inside. Kyungsoo nods at you when you glance at him, and you address Baekhyun again.

   “Speaking of which, would you want to help?”

   He must pick up what you’re putting down  _and_  understand you’re being serious more quickly than you anticipated because his eyes widen and jaw drops.

   “What?”

   “I’ll tell you more in private later, but long story short you and Minseok are welcome to help us find and join the rebels.” Sehun and Chanyeol walk out of the front door at that moment, so you quickly turn and nonchalantly pick up a duffle bag from the “zombie killer”. “Enough chatting for now, let me help you get this stuff inside!” you announce cheerfully. You must have gotten better at acting in the past several years because Baekhyun looks partially concerned and confused when you pass him. You simply smile brighter at him and hope he gets the hint to keep quiet. He does.

   “Thank you Y/n. Just be prepared to get tackled by Minseok inside, he’s getting ready to start setting up our rooms right now.”

   You laugh out a “will do” and trudge along to your front door, weighed down by whatever is inside your chosen duffle bag. Jongdae quickly comes down the stairs and to the rescue.

   “Need help with that, Y/n?” he offers while taking the duffle bag, making it obvious you don’t really have a choice in the matter. You gladly let him have it.

   “Yes,  _please_.” you groan, stretching out your back and arms.

   He already has the duffle bag securely in his hand by the time you finish speaking, and is waiting for you before he moves again. You stand properly and lean against his arm as you normally would, and the two of you move together up the stairs as one. He smirks in your direction.

   “After a bit of panicking when you didn’t answer your bedroom door this morning, I found your note on the long table. Did changing banks really take all day? Just how many people were there in line?” His tone of voice makes it obvious that he knows you weren’t just at the banks. This is instead a secrete way of asking where you actually were as well as an easy out of the implied question in case you don’t want the others hearing.

   “I actually finished at both banks by noon. The rest of the time was me trying to convince my father to allow me to take in two completely untrained slaves and hand me the paperwork today-” you briefly lift up the thin file case in your hand for him to see, “-and to do whatever needs to be done to finalize this himself as soon as possible.”

   He nods an acknowledgement, then takes a minuscule step to the side. It probably wouldn’t have been noticeable if his arm wasn’t previously pressed against yours while walking. You look at him with confusion and slight concern, which he returns with a small smile and a nod towards one of the spare rooms ahead you. You turn into the doorway and are greeted with the sight of your old friend bending over and digging through a box.

   “Minseok!”

   He immediately perks up, “Y/n! Hello!” He turns around and holds his arms out in an offer for a hug, which you gladly accept.

   “It’s really good to see you! I just wish this was a vacation for you and not life-long prison.” you laugh humorlessly. He pulls back suddenly and holds your shoulders at arm’s length.

   “Whatever you’ve got goin’ here is definitely  _not_  a prison, Y/n. You are saving our lives and preserving quite a bit of our freedom too, considering what the alternative is. This isn’t a prison, and I won’t have you thinking like that.”

   You smile playfully, “Give it a month, you’ll be wishing you could go shopping like a normal person. I’m not even a slave and  _I_  wish I could.” You move back just a bit, and when Minseok releases his hold of you, you blindly back up to Jongdae’s side.

   “It’s funny because you’re not really a celebrity. Most of the internet wouldn’t even know you existed if it weren’t for your father mentioning you every now and then.”

   “And the surprise interview a few days ago.” Jondae jumps in.

   “Interview? What interview?”

   “Excuse me!” Baekhyun announces from the doorway, one end a large box in his grip.

   The three of you vacate the center of the room, and Baekhyun and Kyungsoo carry the long box right where you guys were standing, barely missing the other boxes and totes stacked around there. You don’t even realize that Jongdae grabbed your wrist in the process of moving until he let go and you’re missing the gentle warmth of it.

    _Wait… Missing... warmth?_  Even with the hugs you uncommonly give Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, the only people beyond Minseok you feel completely comfortable touching so casually, you never  _miss_  anyone’s  _warmth_. Well, you guess Jongdae’s on the “I’m comfortable with this person touching me” list now too.

   “Y/n? Are you okay?” Jondae worried calling snaps you out of your thoughts.

   “Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? We just moved a few steps to the side.” -and you discovered you actively miss someone– a grown man you’ve only known for not quite two months, no less– gently holding your wrist. Someone who fits that same criteria going in for even a handshake is usually enough to make your anxiety make itself noticeable. Although, any other man you’ve only known for over a month doesn’t live with you and certainly hasn’t felt the need (or hasn’t been conditioned to, first) to protect you and keep you content.

   Thinking back on it, why haven’t you freaked out yet? You’ve let this complete stranger cling on to you like a snail to tall grass, which isn’t exactly the best analogy out there, but it gets the point across. Although, on the other hand, Jongdae has done nothing to suggest that he means to do anything less than help since he’s been here, and Chanyeol even gave his equivalent of a blessing to him earlier this week, so maybe it isn’t so weird that you’re so comfortable around him. Maybe, just this one time, you can force away any feeling of apprehension and allow yourself to feel completely safe, because you’re likely overthinking things again right now.

   “Y/n? Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t mean to grab you, I know that makes you uncomfortable, especially if it wasn’t expected like that.”

   Oh yeah, you’re definitely just overthinking things. Jongdae wouldn’t hurt you, not purposefully, anyway.

   You shake your head to dispel your wandering thoughts, “Yes, I’m sure. I didn’t mind it at all actually.” You ignore both men’s look of utter confusion, “Anyway, what were we talking about?”

   “You were going to tell me about this interview?” Minseok takes a step into the center of the room to unpack the newest box. You go over and help.

   “Oh, yes. Basically, I was buying these fruit drinks at the store earlier the day I called you and was asked about my opinion on this stupid law since my dad signed to pass it. That’s how I found out about all this mess.”

   Jongdae continues, apparently feeling like the entire story hasn’t been told yet, “It’s booming all over the internet right now because she politely crushed this new law and passive-aggressively implied that her father and the ESE corporate leaders are all idiots.”

   “Which they are. I stand by my case.” You help Minseok open the box, revealing the pieces to a dresser, which you suppose could in the spare room. “Since you already have a dresser in here, did you wanna move this to the spare room?” you address Minseok.

   “I’d like to keep mine, actually. Is there any way I can move this one to the spare room instead?” At your nod, he abandons the box for now and moves to the older dresser, “But anyway. Damn, Y/n, getting bold! I’m so proud!” he amicably bumps your arm with his, almost making you stumble and trip on a box laying on the ground right in front of you, despite the gentle force.

   “Oh, don’t sing my praises, I was one question away from having a panic attack or something.” You step back as Minseok and Jongdae work out where to put their hands in order to lift and carry the heavy piece of furniture.

   “But still! The Y/n I knew back in high school would have  _never_  said anything bad about anyone or anything unless it was openly hated by your family or the ESE! The old you also would have strictly kept up with all current events, so this law wouldn’t’ve been a surprise. You gotta give yourself  _some_  credit.”

   “Yeah, well, my patience with the ESE is finally running thin. I’ve had it up to here with them.” You raise your arm well over your head in a gesture to show exactly how done you are with society right now.

   “I can imagine.”

   Your old friend’s focus is now on lifting this solid-wood dresser that you’ve painted over with a pleasant shade of blue. You have the fleeting thought of painting actual designs on it and using the zombie killer to bring it to the art festival, but seeing him and Jongdae struggle to get it off the ground and move it towards the door changes your mind. They take a several second break once they make it outside of the door to readjust themselves. The second time they lift it up they manage to carry it all the way to the completely empty spare room. When Jongdae asks where you want it, you just tell them to leave it in the middle of the room for now, and that it can be moved later if needed.

   You three have just left the room, with Minseok closing the door behind him as he was the last one to leave, when Baekhyun and Chanyeol approach you guys.

   “There you guys are,” Chanyeol beams, “We were wondering where you went off to.”

   “Everything is inside now, so all that’s left is to finish unpacking, assembling, and putting away what we have.” Baekhyun informs with an easy smile.

   “Alright! Let’s get this show on the road then!"

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •

   It takes several hours, but you and the others manage to work together to get everything situated. It’s not until you’re all downstairs eating a well-deserved, delicious dinner when Sehun mentions it being nearly 10:30 and hitting the hay that you realize you completely forgot something important.

   “Baekhyun! Minseok! I have paperwork we need to fill out!” You hastily get off of your chair and rush out of the room, to your growling stomach’s dismay. You turn around in the kitchen to call back to them, “You can bring your dinner upstairs, but this needs to be done in private and handed to my father before midnight tonight!”

   You hear the distant sound of chairs scooting against wood as you jog through the ballroom and hike up the stairs. You quickly find your small file case on your bed and start digging out their respective paperwork. By the time you’ve found a pen and filled in your portion of information on both packets, Baekhyun and Minseok hesitantly knock on your door.

   “Come on in, sit yourselves down anywhere, I need to wash my bed set anyway so don’t worry too much about getting food all over the place.” They both sit themselves down on your bed, and you sit yourself down at your desk on the opposite wall. “Okay, so basically this is the paperwork that’s gonna legally turn you into a slave, Minseok, and what’s going to transfer you, Baekhyun, to under my care from his. Is that okay?”

   “Ith’s the whole reathson why we’re hewr, so I’m gonna thay yeths” Minseok says around a mouth full of food.

   “Minseok, really?” chides Baekhun, who then gets waved off. He sighs, then addresses you again. “I agree with Minseok, We’ve been preparing ourselves for this process, this moment, so we’re about as ready as we can be.”

   You nod. “Alright, if you’re both sure about this, then let’s start with names.” You give a general explanation of why you like the idea of them having separate names, and answer any questions that pop up on the topic.

   “In that case,” Baekhyun speaks, “I am fine with just having Baekhyun as my slave name. It would be very confusing at this point to have another name when I have a choice.”

   “I want mine to be Xiumin!” Minseok cheers rather happily.

   “Xiumin..?” you tilt your head ever-so-slightly to the side.

   “Yea, it was my online persona and pen name. I’m just glad I don’t have to completely let go of it!”

   “Alright then. Next is birth dates, I know Minseok’s, but what’s yours, Baekhyun?”

   The next hour is spent this way, with you asking any necessary questions and praying to whatever god may be out there that this pen does not dry up like you have a feeling it’s going to soon. Thankfully, it waits to stop working until you and Minseok are signing in the designated areas, which is quite a few more places than what you’ve grown used to, but that’s to be expected considering the nature of these specific slivers of dead trees. After everything is signed and done, you send the two men off to bed, seeing as they’re already asleep on their feet after the long day of traveling. Plus, you find out that they were actually in a different timezone, so it’s an hour earlier here than where they used to live.

   As they exit your room and bid you goodnight, you turn back around and quickly scan the papers one last time for anything you could have possibly missed. After you deem it ready to be handed over, you neatly shove it into your file holder and sharply spin and stand, nearly running into Jongdae in the process, who entered your room at some point and decided to stand directly behind you.

   “Woah there,” he grabs your elbow and steadies you after you lose your balance, “I just came in here to offer to drive you over to your parents’ place. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are the only ones awake and they’re taking full advantage of not having to go out searching tonight.”

   You don’t back up when he eventually lets go of your arm, instead saying “Oh. Thank you.” You turn and check the clock and see the numbers 11:36 glowing on it. “We better get going.”

   He nods in agreement, and you decide to be brave and lead him downstairs by the hand. If he finds it strange, then he doesn’t say anything. You let go and tell Jongdae that he can grab the keys and start the car once you two make it to the door. However, when you step away towards the living room, you hear your footsteps echo behind you, signaling that he decided to follow you instead.

   Kyungsoo and Chanyeol are sitting on the couch, watching a comedy TV show, likely trying to relax for the first time in days. Between trying to find loopholes in this new law, watching your step-parents carefully, trying to find a lead on who could be behind the torture chamber next door, and the nightly scouts for the rebels, you four have all been exhausted both mentally and physically. Hopefully, you’ll have two more people to help with this process and thinks can finally move forward. For now, you choose to leave the two exhausted men alone in the living room, rather than checking up on them like you originally planned.

   You turn back around and head towards the door again, this time with Jongdae following you against your side like usual instead of behind you. He grabs the keys to both your car and the zombie killer (which is yet another thing you have to switch to under your name), and you both leave the house and enter the chilled air (it seems that winter may be coming a bit earlier this year). You head to your car while Jongdae moves the zombie killer out of the way, then he drives your car out of the driveway once he’s finished.

   The ride there is silent, but not uncomfortable at all. The only sounds are the car engine running and you occasionally telling Jongdae what street to turn onto. That happens a total of three times, because their house is almost a straight drive from yours. No one else is on the street for obvious reasons. It’s almost midnight in an extremely wealthy neighborhood. Growing up, you were somewhat surprised that the teenagers of these wealthy families didn’t hold parties often, but you soon discovered that they did. They just see themselves as above “trashy, undignified ‘parties’” like the ones in the movies, which you have always found hard to believe, but have always chosen to not question it.

   It’s very close to midnight when you finally turn into your parents’ driveway. The gates to the property open automatically upon scanning your licence plate, and the front door opens to Nylah before you get a chance to knock. She’s been waiting for you, the bitch.

   “Y/n,” she calls with fabricated cheer, not that it does much to hide her annoyance and irritation, “What brings you here again so late? I heard you came over earlier, and you didn’t even come to say ‘hi’!” She doesn’t move out of the entrance, leaving the large door cracked just enough for her to fit. You’ve already lost your patience.

   “You know why I was here, and you also know why I didn’t stop to chat. Please let us in.”

   “Now, that’s not how you speak to your mother.”

   “ _Step_ mother, actually, and a poor one at that. I do not want to have to call father. Please move.” Now you’re actually getting angry.

   “But darling,” she grits out, “he’s asleep-”

   “No he’s not. He’s expecting me. Now stop stalling and move out of my way. Now.” you almost growl the last syllable.

   “No.” she lifts her chin smugly.

   “Fine.” you say, just as smug.

   You pull out your phone and speed dial your father, who surprisingly picks up before the first ring can end, which means Nylah has almost no time to comply to your wishes. She sputters angrily as your father speaks.

   “Y/n! Have you decided not to come tonight?”

   “I’ve been waiting outside the front door for the past fifteen minutes-” it’s only been about two at most, but he doesn’t need to know that, “-while mother refuses to let me in for some reason. I was just wondering if I did something wrong? Or if something happened since I left earlier?”

   “You disgraceful child!” your stepmother screeches, “How dare you spout these lies!”

   “Y/n, can you hand the phone to your mother.”

   “Okay.” You hold out the phone to her with a smirk, knowing you won. As she goes to grab it, you give her a warning low enough for your father not to hear. “Break my phone, and destruction of property is another crime you’ll pay for someday.”

   Maybe you should start getting less sleep more often. Exhaustion and lack of patience seem to be the key to overcoming your anxieties. You decide to analyze this later as Nylah snatches your phone roughly out of your hand. She steps just inside, which gives you the chance to open the door wider and let yourself and Jongdae in. Judging by the way your poor-excuse-for-a-stepmother is reacting and responding, your father is grilling her and starting another fight, and this time he’ll definitely win because there’s no way to twist it into his or your fault.

   The argument continues for another minute or two– and it’s definitely midnight or just past then now– then Nylah angrily hangs up and moves to throw your phone. Before you can warn her not to, Jongdae grabs her wrist and carefully takes it out of her hand. Nylah stands there in shock for a moment, before rage hardens her features. Just as he returns your phone to you with a smile in his eyes, she smacks Jongdae on the side of his head hard enough to make him need to steady himself on your shoulder with watery eyes. You snap.

   “What the hell was that for?!”

   “What do you mean ‘what was the for’!? He fucking grabbed me and forcefully yanked that phone out of my hand! You fucking-”

   “He was working under my orders to protect me and my belongings!” you bend down to help Jongdae up, “You were the one about to chuck my phone across the room! He’s doing his job!”

   “He should not act against me! I am your mother-”

   “ _Step_ mother!” you practically scream, “And he belongs to  _my_! Bought with  _my_  money! Not yours! To him you are just another person!”

   “I should not be-”

   “He was more gentle with you than he would have been with a stranger! That should be enough for you, asshole!”

   Now you notice your shaking, and you only notice that because you aren’t breathing right, which is making you lightheaded and unable to shout properly. You’re vaguely aware of how you’ve pulled Jongdae behind you protectively, and how you can feel the eyes of other people– slaves– watching you. You don’t expect them to try to stop what’s happening, though, especially since that would be walking the border of illegal for them since they’d be standing up against their owner.

   “You watch your fucking mouth around me, child!”

   “I am not a child!” you try to shout, but it ends up coming out much weaker than you want. Why can’t you stop shaking? “Leave us the fuck alone!”

   “I will do as I please and you will listen!”

   She raises her hand to strike you, and you recoil back into Jongdae instinctively. You feel yourself being moved and hear the loud, sharp smack of skin being hit. You try desperately to push away from whatever is holding you back, only to grip onto it tighter when you almost fall onto the floor when it releases you. You try to catch your breath, but it doesn’t seem like anything is working. So you decide to not breathe entirely, figuring that if your hold your breath, you’ll be forced to breathe normally eventually, and it would make you seem less weak than hyperventilating.

   Maybe you should keep getting enough sleep, after all. Then you would know when to stop before it’s too late.

   You’re vaguely aware of a man (you think your father?) and Nylah shouting at each other, which isn’t helping anything. The thing you’re holding onto happens to be a person, and they thankfully kneel down on the ground with you so you can sit. The yelling hasn’t stopped, and you just want to leave. Your vision is getting hazy and you’re not even sure why anymore.

   “...Y/n…”

   That was Jongdae. He is good. Jongdae likes to help. You like it when Jongdae helps, too.

   “...Y/n, c’mon. You have to breathe.”

   Breathe? But you are breathi- wait. No you’re not. You’re still holding your breath. At this realization you gasp deeply, trying to get as much air in your burning lungs as possible.

   “There you go…Come on...somewhere safe…quiet...”

   Somewhere safe and quiet? If Jongdae thinks a place is that, then you’ll trust him to get you there, because he likes to help and you like it when he helps. You nod quickly, still breathing deeply. You can’t tell if the yelling is still happening or not, but you don’t want to focus too much on that and find out. You simply let Jongdae help you up and moving. You’re walking for a little bit, then going up stairs, then more walking. By the time you make it to what you recognize as the door to your father’s office, you’ve managed to calm down enough to not need to support yourself on Jongdae anymore.

   With one last deep breath, you successfully pull yourself together to maybe do what you came here to do. Jongdae hesitantly lets go of your waist, where he was holding to help you up here, when you take a step forward and open the door on your own. When he goes to pull away from your side completely, however, you grab his hand. The two of you enter together, and find Lay already standing by his designated chair and very concerned. He immediately rushes over to you two.

   “Oh my god, what happened?! Are you guys okay?”

   “Yeah, I think I’m fine.” You look to Jongdae for reassurance, but you find the exact opposite of that in the form of two angry, red hand marks accompanied with some scratches on his face instead. “Oh my god, Jongdae! Are you okay? I mean, you’re obviously not, but does it hurt much?”

   You reach up with both hands to carefully turn his head to inspect the damage, but he gently takes your wrists and softly massages the base of your palms with his thumbs. The corners of his mouth lift up into a tiny smile, and for some reason you can’t find any reason to think it’s fake or forced. Even his eyes appear to be look at you with only fondness and maybe concern, rather than concealed pain. It somehow eases any last remnants of nerves that your head was desperately holding on to.

   “I’m okay, Y/n. I’ve suffered worse than this, remember?” His hands slide up and shift so they’re properly holding yours. “It’s just a few scratches, everything will fade in a few days.”

   “We should still disinfect the scratches, though. Who knows where her hands have been.” Lay informs. Then he stutters, “Er, uh- I mean- If you’re okay wi-”

   “Thank you very much, Lay.” you interrupt with a smile, “I appreciate it.”

   He smiles back, “Of course. The first aid kit is right over here.”

   He has Jongdae sit down on one of the three chairs placed across from your father’s desk, which is facing the window to the left when entering the door. His desk, which is usually neat and orderly, is cluttered with stacks and piles of papers, which makes you feel back for pretty much making him do this for you, since he’s obviously already very busy. You just hope the fight likely happening downstairs doesn’t keep him for too long. The poor man needs to sleep.

   You decide you might as well use this time to fill out the third and last form your father gave you yesterday. You originally weren’t going to fill this out or give it to him today, but you figure doing that is better than shamelessly staring at Jongdae while he gets patched up. There’s no reason for you to. You trust Lay to do a good job, considering he has to do this exact thing for your father sometimes when he hurts himself by being clumsy or when he and Nylah get in a large fight, like now. That half-reassurance apparently isn’t enough keep you from stealing glances anyway, though.

   When Jongdae is completely taken care of, and working on the last page of the surprisingly small packet of paperwork for joining that slave rehabilitation thing, your father finally walks in. He looks completely exhausted and drained, but doesn’t have any marks on him, gladly.

   “Are you okay, Y/n? It hasn’t been that bad in years...” he asks from where he is, knowing to not smother of worry too much after a panic attack like that.

   “Yes, I’m fine now. Thanks for asking.”

   “Good, good. Is  _he_  alright, though?” he nods to Jongdae.

   “He claims he is, but I still had Lay do a bit of patching up. I hope you don’t mind.”

   “Not at all.”

   “Mister Y/l/n, do you need any care?” Lay asks.

   “No, not this time.” He sighs. “Had I known she would do this, I would have sent Lay to wait for you.”

   “It was partially my fault-”

   “No,” he interrupts you, “you have no blame in this. That crazy woman wanted to start something with you, and she did. Why, I do not know.”

   You do very well, though, and her throwing a fit like this isn’t helping her case.

   Your father sits down at his desk and starts moving some papers around in an attempt to make space for the stacks you have in your possession. While he clears things off, you try to hurry in going through the last page of the same paperwork you were working on before. A paragraph in one of the last sections catches your eye.

   “It says here in the paperwork for the rehabilitation thing that I have to accept any slave I am given to take care of?”

   “Yes, that’s how it is for all members.” he answers, more focused on organizing and clearing enough space.

   “Is there any way this can be changed so I can refuse a slave if I have good reason to?”

   He finally pauses his movements, “Why would you need to?”

   “I am not trained in dealing with… unrefined slaves, and would like a way out in case I get overwhelmed. I  _have_  lived alone with two slaves for years until just a couple months ago, and I don’t fancy being forced to invite delinquent and possibly dangerous strangers into my mansion. So I would like a way to return or refuse any slaves I get within reason.”

   Your father takes a moment to think about it in silence. You can practically see the gears turning in his mind, and wonder if he’s thinking about how to change it, or he should agree to change it in the first place. It turns out to be the former.

   “I can do that. It’s as simple as adding another sentence, Just give me a moment.” He goes back to neatly clearing things off, and is almost done by now.

   “Should I write it in and have you just sign the change as valid, then? I don’t want to waste any more of your time tonight.”

   “You aren’t wasting my time, but yes, that would be helpful.”

   You do exactly that, writing within that paragraph that you have the right to refuse a slave if “it’s” history seems to challenging or dangerous to deal with, and the right to return the slave within a week if “it” proves to be dangerous towards you or your other slaves. After a moment’s thought and hesitation, you decide to add in one last point that you also get the choice to keep or buy any slave you have attempted, be it successfully or not, to rehabilitate before “it” goes back on sale to the public or gets sent to be exterminated. You have a strong feeling you’d regret not at least trying to add it in later.

   “Alright. Let’s take a look at what you have, shall we?” you father announces just as you finish signing the last designated spot.

   “Do you want them one at a time, or all at once?”

   “All at once will work.”

   You nod and give him each paperclipped stack of papers until he has all three. He quickly skims through the first and smallest one, the one you made a change to, and you know the exact moment he reads your little extra addition.

   “You want to be able to have first dibs on any slaves you’ll be re-training?” he asks for both clarification and an explanation.

   “Yes. If I feel like they would regress back to their old way by going to a new owner, or I have grown used to and pleased with them by the time they have officially been retitled to functional again.”

   “But you also want the choice to keep them if the organization claims you  _aren’t_  successful…”

   “Chanyeol took about a year and a half to rehabilitate, which is much longer than what is usually permitted, and look how well he turned out.”

   “Chanyeol needed to be rehabilitated? Why did I not know about this?”

   “Because it wasn’t a serious case-” because him being tempted to kill you in your sleep isn’t a serious case, but you aren’t thinking about that, “-and I was confident I could fix him. Which I did. Call it a gut feeling I had that it’d be worth it to keep trying, if you will.”

   “...Okay. I don’t see anything problematic about wanting this part added as well.And I can’t think of any other policy that would interfere or overlap with it, so I will sign it. Just know that no one else gets or will get this privilege, so don’t start broadcasting it to the world or something.”

   “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you very much.”

   He signs in a place or two within that stack, and moves on to the next one. This one is Baekhyun’s transferring papers. Your stepfather looks through it silently, only speaking up when he has a simple question to ask for the records, or if he needs clarification. The one time he asks about where Minseok is now, you tell him that he is now legally a slave as of midnight, but that these papers were signed before then, when he still had rights. Your father states that that’s a bit tricky, but says that if he’s the “untrained slave” you’re taking in, then it shouldn’t be as much trouble. You tell him it is, and Baekhyun's stack of paperwork gets done almost as quickly as the one before it.

   Minseok’s take quite a bit longer. This kind of case is rare and is usually only attempted between two people who are close with one another. He only starts looking through the largest stack after you have reassured him countless times that you have no special ties to him whatsoever. He doesn’t seem to just skim through the work and signatures this time, but instead actually reads it page by page and fact-checks some things. The room is silent save for the occasional turning and rustling of paper. By the time he’s finally satisfied with what’s been put on those sheets, you’re trying hard to not fall asleep sitting up, and Jongdae appears to be in a somewhat similar situation. Your father’s equally tired voice wakes the two of you up, though, followed by the sounds of what you think is a printer.

   “Okay. Everything seems to be in order. I’ve just signed everything and logged it into our systems,” he starts digging around in one of his lower desk drawers, “So all you have to do is put these temporary collars on Baekhyun and Xiumin until you can go to a store to get some official ones, if I can find them...” He digs around for a few more seconds before popping up with an “Aha!” He types a few things on his computer and clicks around a bit, then hands the two collars to you before continuing. “Normally, you’d have to put these on them immediately, but I put the timer on for thirty-five minutes, since you still need to drive home and presumably wake them up to put these on. So there’s that.”

   He gets up and moves behind you where the strange printing noises have been coming from. You turn around to follow what he’s doing and watch as he fidgets around with whatever the office-printer-looking machine spit out. The second one apparently finishes too, because he’s picking up that one as well and fidgeting with it as he walks back and sits himself down at his desk again.

   “These are the slave cards that I’ve just printed for you…” He hands them to you, then sits back in his chair. “And I think that’s all. No need for reciting any of the redundant and pointless information like they do at the desks, and no doing strange, little, task things that are hidden within information packets.” He sighs almost contentedly, “It’s been a while since I’ve done simple desk work like this. I’d almost miss it if people weren’t such douchebags, you know?”

   “Yeah.” You occasionally forget that your father started at the near-bottom of the chain and rather quickly made his way up. You may not agree with his or the company’s ideals, but your father certainly deserves the success he has based on the things you’ve heard.

   You stand and make your way to the door, the other three people in the room following closely behind you. You bid your father and Lay goodnight once you have to split up at the staircase, with him going up to his room and you going down to the front door. Nylah is nowhere to be found, which means she’s probably still sulking or throwing a fit in her room. You lead the way out of the front door, which a slave opens for you, closing and locking it once you’ve left.

   Jongdae drives you home in the same silence as earlier, and doesn’t bother moving the zombie killer off the lawn where he moved it once you make it home. Once inside, you wait for him while he hangs the keys up and locks the door. You both climb up the stairs, dead on your feet. Jongdae offers to take one of the collars so things can get done faster, but you refuse, saying that you want to wake both of them up yourself. You let yourself into Minseok’s room first to do exactly that.

   “Minseok.” you gently shake his shoulder. He shifts around a bit, but gives no other hint of waking up. You shake him a bit rougher, “Xiumin. Minseok. Come on, you have to put this on.”

   He grumbles and opens his eyes to look at you. “Wha..?”

   “You have to put this pretty crappy collar on before it beeps and you get flagged as a runaway slave.”

   “Oh.” He seems to come to his senses up a bit, going as far as sitting up, but he still looks like a zombie. “Well hand it here. Time to be Xiumin, the best god damned slave that everyone wishes they could have.” he jokes.

   It earns a tired huff of amusement and a shake of the head from you, at least. You put the collar on for him, ignoring how his hands went up to do it himself. You explain that it’s really easy to get pinched with these cheap collars, and that you’ll get him and Baekhyun new, more comfortable collars tomorrow that’ll be easier to sleep with. He nods and tells you where the key to Baekhyun’s collar is, then falls back down on his bed. As you walk out of his room, you can hear the shuffling of him trying to get comfortable, and you wish you could get a better collar for him now.

   Jongdae follows you over to Baekhyun’s room, where the ginger man is already peeking open his eyes. You quietly walk over and repeat the process with Baekhyun, except he doesn’t try to reach for the temporary collar to put on by himself. He also seems to go back to sleep almost instantly once you’re done, a trait you’ve discovered to be shared among slaves. You walk out just as quietly as you came in.

   You bid Jongdae goodnight with a little hand squeeze, not knowing when exactly his hand ended up in yours, and he leans against your briefly in retaliation. You stumble into your bedroom and barely manage to go through a shortened version of your nightly routine before collapsing on your bed and falling asleep on impact.

• ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • ** **◊**** • **◊** •    

   The next day is busy, if not almost redundant by this point.

   You make an appointment for “Xiumin” to get his hair color tested that afternoon. Apparently they were having a slow day and had more slots open than usual, so the last minute call wasn’t any problem. As you’re getting ready to leave in the morning to go collar shopping for Minseok and Baekhyun, Jongdae asks to come along as well. You’re not really sure why he asked, it’s a given at this point that he goes wherever you go unless told otherwise. When you say as much to him, he gets strangely smiley for the rest of the morning at the manor.

   On the way to the collar shop, Jongdae and Baekhyun go over what is absolutely not allowed as a slave. After they think they’ve covered everything on that topic, and Minseok is certain he can remember the ground rules, Jongdae starts describing how you go about letting them choose their own stuff. Although, he doesn’t get very far before Minseok starts teasing you for taking his technique as your own. He only stops when Baekhyun notifies that the shop isn’t too much father,and that’s only because Jongdae and Baekhyun start quizzing him on the “do”s and “don’t”s of being a slave, because it’s one thing to know and understand rules and practices, but it’s another thing to successfully put them into action.

   An entire hour later, you finally walk out with plenty of new collars. Minseok chose three new collars: one that appears to be black leather, but is actually quite soft, with a silver ring connecting the two ends (that’s the one he chose to wear now), a plain, matte, red one, and a white, choker-styled collar. Baekhyun went with a simple black one that has a quote scripted in white around the outside (the one  _he’s_  wearing at the moment). You decided that you needed to get plain, matte, black collars for anyone who didn’t have one already for the sake of them all looking uniform when need be. You haven’t even gotten Minseok tested or recolored and your wallet is already crying.

   When you sign “Xiumin” in to get tested for hair recoloring, Allie is there at reception. However, you don’t have the same luck as you did several days ago, and someone else just happens to be in front of you this time and she has to take them instead of you. This isn’t the end of the world of course, you can just text her later after her shift is over, like you have been these past few days, but it would have been nice to be helped by someone you know. You instead get called up by the man who fixed the machine last time (which is broken again, hence why you are in the line at all).

   Minseok’s testing doesn’t take as long as Sehun’s, and you think it’s because Minseok isn’t in a bad mindset like the other was. A short shopping trip to pick up some cheap treats for everyone is all you have time for before you’re called and told that “Xiumin” is ready for pick up. You do exactly that, and are surprised to see that his results came back as all dark with a majority of neutral and large minority of cool, which doesn’t match his personality  _or_  his claim to “ _be the best damned slave_ ” at all.

   “Your test results say you’re a very serious man who likes to replace quite a few orders. What happened to being the best slave that everyone would want, Minseok? Did you get the color meanings mixed up?” you tease. He takes the bait.

   “My lack of patience for nonsense happened. I’m not allowed to say what happened in the simulations, not that I really want to anyway, but it was challenging to not deck literally everyone in the throat, Y/n! I’m proud that I got away with just that on my record.”

   “Well, you’ll get to keep your black hair, but now you need a dark, cool color.”

   “Not blue. I feel like everyone does blue.”

   “Then purple and green are left.”

   “Green it is! Right on the top, here!”

   And that’s how it gets colored. The sides are trimmed and black, while the top is left long and pushed stylishly back out of his face. A good chunk of the ends on the longer, top part of his hair is dyed an almost forest green. You planned on getting Baekhyun’s hair retouched, but are glad to hear that Minseok already did that for you before they left for your place. Your wallet smiles weakly upon them.

   The four of you make it home just in time for dinner. Everyone collectively agrees that Minseok’s hair looks nice, even if it doesn’t match what they know of him, and that you and Jongdae look exhausted. Yet another leaf needs to be added onto the table to make room for Minseok and Baekhyun, but no one feels like messing with that for now (that process involves going through the basement again, which is never fun, and having to rearrange the dining room so it can fit another section and still hold two people at each end). Therefore, you decide to eat at the mini bar thing in the center of the kitchen. Minseok, Baekhyun, and Jongdae have already sat down at the table by the time you make this decision, so they won’t be sitting next to you like you assumed earlier. It’s actually Sehun that takes a seat across from you while everyone else happily talks in the dining room.

   “How was your day, Sehun?” you try to start a conversation. He looks up at you with genuine surprise, then answers while keeping eye contact.

   “It was good.” he looks back down to his food. You decide to try again.

   “Did anything noteworthy happen today? I’m sorry if I sound nosey, I’m just curious.”

   He looks at you that same expression as before as he answers, “ Not really. I just went outside and walked around the garden. You have a beautiful collection out there.”

   “Oh, thank you. I guess I never got to give you the official tour of the place with everything that’s been happening lately. Sorry about that.”

   “You have nothing to apologize for, Miss.” He called you just  _miss_. He’s making some progress, which makes you happy.

   “Are the others getting along with you?” you smile, trying to encourage him to answer honestly.

   “Yes, they are all very kind, even if they can sometimes be a tad overbearing occasionally. But that is not their fault, it is mine for having a low tolerance.”

   “It isn’t your fault, they  _can_  be a bit much sometimes. Especially Chanyeol, but he usually knows when to stop. Just ask him or any of them to if you feel like they’re getting carried away, they should stop. If they don’t you’re always welcome to leave.”

   “May I- um, actually…” You silently urge him on to say what he wants to with a patient smile. “I was wondering- and you don’t have to answer- why you’re still so kind and patient with me.”

   Didn’t you already go over this during his first conscious days here? You give him a real answer, anyway, because you personally know how doubt in someone’s mind can grow from just that to something they believe to be completely true.

   “Because you’re not just a slave. You’re a person who’s been handed a rough hand at life. You deserve respect, believe it or not.”

   “Well, yes. I know you like to think of slaves as people. I know you think of  _us_  as people, it’s the only reason I chose to stay. Because you gave me a choice to. But you know that I still don’t trust that you actually think that.”

   “Yes I do, and it’s completely understandable that you don’t. My viewpoint on slavery isn’t exactly widely shared. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you any differently.”

   “...I’m not sure I understand why, though, when you have six others that will follow you blindly.”

   You shift on your stool and lower your voice so that it’s not possible for anyone in the dining room to hear you. “Do you know how long Chanyeol didn’t hated me?”

   Sehun copies your tone, understanding that this is between you two only, “Not exactly, he only mentioned that he didn’t like you at first that morning.”

   “Just over sixteen months.”

   “What?” he asks, his eyes widening and brows raising in disbelief.

   “After almost a year and a half is when Chanyeol finally learned to tolerate me, and reluctantly accepted that I wasn’t going to do anything to him.” You pause in case Sehun wants to give his input, but he sits silently, so you continue. “It took him a few months longer after that to actually believe me and grow to like me beyond just tolerance.” You pause again, but he, again, remains silent. You shift in your chair again, and your tone becomes less serious and more kind.

   “I know you don’t trust or particularly like me right now, and that’s okay. It just shows that you aren’t easy to trust people, which is a good trait to have in a lot of cases. I’m not going to force you to trust me, and I’m definitely not going to force you to like me, because you may never actively like me, and that’s okay. Sometimes people just don’t get along. I’ll be perfectly happy to just coexist in this household. This is sadly all I can do to give you any freedom, short of joining the rebels myself.” He almost perks up at your very last statement.

   “Please excuse me if I’m out of line, but would you?”

   “Join the rebels?” He nods warily. “Yes. I plan on it.”

   His jaw drops, and whispers with a quick glance to the busy dining room, “You’re actually joining them?”

   “That’s why me, Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Kyungsoo have been so tired ately. We’ve been up all night every night trying to find them. We haven’t found them yet, and I don’t think we will because of who I am.”

   Sehun seems to contemplate something, looking anywhere around the room that isn’t you for several moments. You simply keep quiet and stay patient while he processes what you just said. However, when he speaks, you begin to think that what he was contemplating was whether or not he should say what he wanted versus staying quiet. He keeps his eyes down on the bar, though.

   “...They should still give you a chance to prove yourself… I don’t trust you, but the others do, and it’s apparent that you like them too, especially Jongdae.” He lifts his eyes to meet yours, “It’s clear that you’re… different, special, compared to any other slave master I’ve encountered.” He drops his eyes again, “So I think they should give you a chance to prove yourself. Like I’m going to start doing now.”

   “Don’t feel like you have to force yourself to. If the others are pressuring you about this, then I’ll get them to stop.” The last thing you want is for Sehun to feel like he has no choice except to trust and like you, which would have the opposite effect. He’d only act the part, but wouldn’t ever give you a real chance. You learned that the hard way with Chanyeol.

   “No, they aren’t pressuring me. But I like to observe them, and you, it makes me feel safer when no matter how long I watch and listen, I don’t find any serious distaste in you. Especially as of late. I don’t trust you, but I think I’m ready to let you try to change my mind, hearing that you’re trying to go to the rebels.”

   “All I want is for slavery to be over, and yet the exact opposite happened with this new god-forsaken law.” You look over to where Baekhyun and Minseok are, and don’t miss that Jongdae immediately locks eyes with you expectantly, his plate empty. When he shifts to stand you hold up a hand with a smile. He pauses, then shifts to sit back down in his seat properly again.

   “Please excuse me if I’m overstepping boundaries,” you turn to him, “but he  _really_  likes you.”

   “I can’t imagine why,” you say seriously, casting your eyes back to the blond, “He’s spent more time attached to my hip than anyone else, so he knows most of my bad habits already.”

   “People who have crushes-” you turn to him in surprise at the word crush “-don’t think they’re bad habits, or they do and like the other person despite them. At least, that’s what my mama once told me.”

   “ _Crush_? Him? I don’t really think he likes me  _that_ way…”

   “...I suppose I don’t know enough about the current topic to give any proper commentary, so I think I’ll head off to bed now, if that’s alright.”

   “Okay. Goodnight, Sehun. Thank you for talking to me.”

   “Thank you for allowing me to talk. Goodnight.”

   Sehun makes it six steps away when you feel a presence at your side. Turing to face him, it’s exactly who you expected it to be.

   “That seemed like a productive talk.” He sits down next to you, scooting his stool closer to you. Now that you have the idea of crushes in your head, these little things stand out a lot more and for a different reason than they once did.

   “Yes, he’s willing to give me a chance to prove myself worthy of being trusted. And he knows and accepts that we’re joining the rebels, or trying to, anyway. I don’t think he wants to, though. I never got to ask.”

   “Wow, very productive indeed.” He leans on the bar counter, shifting his weight so he faces you just  _that_  much more, “So we’re definitely going to tell Junmyeon, Minseok, and Baekhyun too?”

   “Baekhyun already knows that he and Minseok are invited to join us, which means Minseok will probably know by tonight if he doesn’t already.” You get up from your stool to put your plate in the sink, and Jongdae immediately follows, having brought his plate from the dining room.

   “So all that’s left is to tell Junmyeon and keep searching.”

   “Yes.”

   “You sound exhausted.”

   “I am exhausted, mentally and physically. I’ve been doing a lot more in these past two months than I think I’ve done my entire life, and yesterday’s...situation, was the worst I’ve had in awhile. I’m still drained.” you chuckle weakly.

   “Well, you should probably go to bed then, yeah?”

   “Yeah.” You return to the dining room, where everybody is getting up from their chairs to put their dishes in the sink.

   “I’m gonna go to bed early tonight guys. Goodnight.”

   After a chorus of “Goodnight”s and the like, you turn back around and haul your exhausted body all the way to your room. Jongdae remains plastered to your side with a hand almost unnoticeably on your lower back, until you make it to your door. You pause there, and Jongdae removes his hand and tears himself from your side to stand cater-corner facing you.

   “Goodnight, Y/n. Sleep well tonight.”

   With the thought of crushes still rolling through your mind, you decide to take a leap and hug Jongdae. He tenses for just a moment, obviously not expecting you to do that, but quickly relaxes again and hugs you back. It’s a nice, solid hug, not one someone would give just to be polite, but not too tight or firm that it’s too much to you. Jongdae understands more in just seven weeks than your parents did after nineteen  _years_. You mumble into his shoulder.

   “Goodnight, sweet dreams.” You gently pull away, and he lets you.

   “Goodnight.”

   You smile at the fact that he already said goodnight as you prepare to go through your nightly routine, and it doesn’t seem to leave even as you fall asleep.

   This is the best rest you will have had in a while, and you know you deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GHAAAAAAH IT FEELS SO GOOD TO POST STUFF AGAIN!!! Whew, 2018 was _rough_ lemme tell you, but now I’m back and I’m gonna kick 2019 into submission if it doesn’t wanna play nice! I’m so excited to see what y’all think about where Abounded is heading!! Starting this chapter, the pacing and plot is going to be kicking up and getting more involved and things are gonna be _happenin’_! I’m hype!! I hope you all had a good New Years and Winter Holidays and every other celebration that happened since March!! Thank you all so much for being patient with me and leaving little comments on some of the chapters!! Love you all!


	12. The Art Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Verbal Conflict, Swearing, Aspects of how anxiety affects me

   “Hun, look at these! Aren’t they beautiful? And look, she’s even working on another one right now!” a woman exclaims.

   “Yes, they’re beautiful. You’ve been saying the same thing about every other booth here.” a man replies, obviously getting tired of being dragged around by the woman.

   It’s finally this year’s outdoor art fair, and you’re happy to finally get it done and over with. It’s not that you dislike attending, quite the contrary actually, but it can be draining to sit in a very public place and helplessly watch as people judge your creations. Most people are very kind, or at least ignore your booth if it doesn’t interest them, but there’s always those few that try to tell you exactly what you’ve done “wrong” and what needs to be “fixed” to make it worth any price, let alone the ones you’ve set. Over time, you’ve learned to easily ignore these people’s comments like water rolling off of wax paper, but still. This year is slightly different from any previous years, however, and you’re glad that less people seem to be eager to “fix” your work.

   Since the manor next door has been supposedly cleared by investigators, despite the evidence you found on your own (and won’t be showing them; you can’t trust anyone anymore), you haven’t trusted anyone to stay home on their own. You’ve always left Chanyeol and/or Baekhyun at the manor whenever you needed to leave to do something, since they’re the ones with professional fighting experience, and even then it was always only for a couple of hours at most. You don’t want anyone to be caught off guard or hurt in case the people taking residence next door decide to get a bit of revenge.

   That’s why you have all seven of your “slaves” with you today. However, when anyone asks why you have more than the average one or two slaves with you, you’ve been saying that they’ve been especially well behaved recently and coming to be a part of this was their treat. It helps that your group is mostly genuinely enjoying themselves today, if not a bit bored from standing around or anxious of the new environment.

   “Um, excuse me miss…?” the same feminine voice from before tears you from your thoughts. You put on your best “customer service” smile and voice.

   “Hello! How can I help you?”

   “Is the one you’re currently painting for sale?” She points to your canvas mostly filled with a painting of a swamp at dusk. It’s honestly one of your lesser eye-catching ones, so you’re a bit surprised, but you nod and tell her your estimated price anyway.

   She smiles and hands you half of the price as a holder for it and, after you say it will be done and dried in a couple of hours, promises to be back to pay the rest and take it home. She leaves with what you realize is her fiancé in tow, who seems pleased that she is happy and energetic even though he’s tired and very done for the day.

   Turning back to the unfinished swamp, you try to imagine what it’d be like to have someone like that in your life. It’s very hard because, while most women of your status and age want what’s handsome and wealthy, you aren’t so sure. Of course, if he just so happens to be handsome and wealthy you certainly wouldn’t complain, but men like that tend to be controlling and manipulative in your experience. They had to get all that money somehow, be from their own business they control, or parents they manipulated at some level, whether it was intentional or not.

   No, you’d want someone protective, but not controlling; kind, but not a pushover; strong, but gentle. Most of all though, you want someone who understands your view on life, and shares the same ideals on slavery and politics. Those last two criteria alone crosses out all available men in existence, and you’ve accepted that long ago.

    _”People who have crushes don’t think they’re bad habits–”_

   Nope. Just like every other time that thought has forced itself to your attention, you make yourself realize that it isn’t like that. Jongdae’s just protective of you because you saved him, and he knows the presence of someone you trust calms you down, so he sticks by you all the time. After all, a calm you means a better environment for them, right?

   Even you know that it’s a stretch and a half and that you sound exactly like every main character in every romance novel and fanfiction, but experiencing these things first hand is much different. It’s easier to tell yourself that it isn’t and can never be when you’re so used to being let down whenever you look forward to something. It’s better to be pleasantly surprised when something good happens than to be disappointed when what you were hoping for doesn’t happen, after all.

   “M’lady, are you alright?” You blink out of your thoughts once again as Jongdae speaks by your right shoulder, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly certain that yellow does not belong on the bark of a dark tree.”

   Now fully at attention you see that you have, in fact, put yellow in the shaded part of a tree trunk, which is supposed to be burnt umber. At least the black will cover the yellow up easily once it dries. You say as much to Jongdae, and watch as he tries and quickly fails to hide a small smile. After a moment or two of eye contact, he looks up and past you then quickly turns away to stand where the others are lounging either on the ground or in a chair behind your makeshift check-out table. Once he takes his place next to Junmyeon, though, your eyes meet briefly again, and when he smiles at you you’re suddenly aware that you’re  _still watching him_.

   You quickly smile back then snap your head back to the canvas and you get back to the grind. It’s little moments like what just happened that make it blatantly obvious that  _something_  must be shifting between you two, but you don’t want to assume the wrong thing and scare him off or something. Therefore, you sit there on your cushioned stool, telling yourself over and over again that you’re just reading into things too much like usual, that it’s too good to be true, that it could never be.

**•◊•◊•◊•◊•**

   “Heyyy! Y/n! Babe!”

   You suppress a groan and eye roll at the voice of your old “friends”. Irritating pricks. Outwardly, you turn around with a smile that you almost hope looks as tense and fake as it feels.

   “Hey Lilac, Teresa, Mel. What are you guys doing here? You hate this kind of stuff.”

   Teresa, the beautiful young woman with expert makeup, dark hair in an updo, and in a navy-patterned sundress, takes the lead of the conversation, as she always has in the past.

   “Well, we haven’t seen you in so long! It’s been, like,  _actual_  months! It’s a travesty!” You don’t have the energy or patience to correct that it’s  _tragedy_ , not  _travesty_.

   “So!” Mel, the adorable, plump blonde continues where Teresa stops, “We decided that we should visit! Since we, you know,  _always_  initiate our get togethers.”

   “You know, if we didn’t know any better, we’d say you didn’t like us anymore” Lilac pouted her very red lips and fluttering her huge, fake eyelashes as if that’s going to make you feel guilty at all. God, you feel blinded by how bright and shimmery her eyeshadow is.

   “Well, I was  _not_  fond of how I was dragged to that ESE event for no reason.” You turn back around in your chair, and judging by the quiet scoff you hear from behind you, you’ve effectively made it seem like you don’t care whatsoever. Good, cause to a certain level, you don’t.

   “Aww, come on,” Teresa whines, “how was Emilia supposed to know he’d be  _blonde_  of all colors!”

   “Blonde is a perfectly fine hair color, if I do say so myself.” It takes a lot to not clench your jaw from getting irritated, but you’re too afraid of conflict to send them on their way. “What was it that you needed again? As you can see, I’m in the middle of doing a commission, so I can’t go anywhere right now.”

   Mel gasps with wide eyes and a slight smile, “You’re doing commissions?!”

   “I always do commissions.” you deadpan.

   “I want a stormy beach. With lightning and crashing waves and stuff.” Lilac demands.

   “I’m working on this one right now, but if you give half the payment up front now, I can start–”

   “Half payment?” She sounds just as offended as she looks, with one hand on her hip and her face morphed into a scowl.

   “Well, yea. I need to know you aren’t going to just bail on me–”

   Teresa interrupts you, “No no, I think she’s trying to ask why you’re trying to charge us.”

   Oh mercy. This again.

   Lilac continues, “Yea, we’re your friends, and we’re always the ones initiating everything, just like we said earlier, so you should do something for us for a change. After all, we’re the reason you even know what the sun looks like out here.”

   You stand from your stool, feeling more comfortable and less trapped when on your feet, “Well, this is my job. I need to make money somehow. Besides, everywhere you’ve ever taken me I’ve never really liked, so I like to think we’re even. Now if you excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

   You aren’t a fool and don’t move to sit back down. You know they won’t be done until they cause a scene and you’ve been made to formally apologize. Although, you’re hoping this time will be different. A couple of people in the booths nearest to you are looking over, and while normally that would make you extremely uncomfortable, this time the people watching have been in your position before at some point in time, and will more likely be on your side. Their stares feel less like judgement and more like silent understanding and support.

   Mel looks like she’s about to apologize, but Teresa unknowingly cuts her off before she can make a sound, “Hmph! Fine! Then I suppose we can take one of these then–” she gestures to the two, dark wall dividers in your booth that have art hung on them “–since I know you’ve had a few of these for a while.”

   She reaches for one, but Minseok’s hand grabs her wrist. His smile does not look kind as he speaks, “I’m sorry, miss, but these are not to be given away, as per my lady’s orders. So please kindly leave if you are not interested in properly purchasing anything.”

   Teresa easily snatches her hand back, showing how light his grip on her was. “How dare you touch me, slave! Y/n! Keep your pets under control! He just tried to harass me!”

   Now you allow yourself to roll your eyes. “No he wasn’t, he was following my orders to keep people from stealing.” You step in between Minseok and Teresa, knowing she wouldn’t dare touch you.

   “Wait, isn’t he..?” Mel pauses, pointing at Minseok, but she doesn’t get to say anything before Lilac is in your face.

   “You listen here, I don’t know what kind of fucking game you’re playing, but it’s not funny–” She’s cut off by a light shove to her shoulders, barely enough to make her shift her weight. Yet it still earns gasps from the two girls behind her.

   You don’t even realize you started holding your breath again until Minseok steps in front of you protectively. Once our start breathing, your muscles loosen microscopically from being painfully tense to uncomfortably tense.

   “Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave on behalf my lady’s safety and comfort. She does not like confrontation, and dislikes being the target or in the middle of it even more.”

   Lilac didn’t like that one bit. “You can’t fuckin’ tell me what to do! You’re just a lowly fucking slave!”

   She shoves Minseok harshly enough that he topples you over as well. Next thing you know, Baekhyun is lifting Minseok into an upright position and Jongdae’s arms are wrapped under your own and around your torso. As he stands you upright, you notice that Chanyeol and Junmyeon both caught the wall divider that almost tipped over, and that the second one is thankfully untouched.

   What can only be described as a growl coming from Jongdae snaps your attention back to the situation at hand. He unwraps himself from you, but leaves a hand on your arm as he steps in front and to the side of you, trying and failing to hide exactly how much he’s seething. You grip his shirt and shift completely behind him, leaving only your left shoulder and half of your head exposed to the three women. His hand moves from your arm to your side, understanding that you want none of what’s probably about to happen.

   You know that all he needs is your permission and he’d happily kick all three of them out. You decide to give it to him indirectly by giving a final warning to the three very offended trespassers.

   “You need to leave. You’re all problematic and I don’t want to see you again. Goodbye.”

   Teresa’s jaw drops and her drawn-on brows try to meet her hairline “Wha–?”

   Lilac fists are clenched and rage erupts in her eyes. “Excuse me?! You treat us like this and you call  _us_  problematic?! What the fucking hell?!”

   “She said leave. Now.” Jondae growls, “Or else I will have to forcibly remove you on behalf of my lady’s wishes.”

   “Wait– Oh my god. Is that the blonde Emilia abandoned?” Teresa barks out a sharp laugh. She takes in a breath of air to say something more, but an officer at the entrance of your tent makes herself known with a loud clearing of her throat. Her voice is smooth and calming when she speaks– she could definitely record audiobooks for a living if she wanted.

   “And I’m assuming you’re the three harassing this booth-keeper that I was called about?”

   Lilac and Teresa appear to be a mix of offended and livid, gaping between you and the officer. Mel, on the other hand, just looks somewhat guilty, and you almost feel bad for her. Almost. She was always the one that you tolerated most, and you can tell that she only ever followed the other two’s examples, rather than doing her own thing. You always low-key hoped that she would somehow find better people to place herself around. Although, you suppose it isn’t any of your concern anymore, now.

   Teresa snaps out of it first, “We weren’t harassing her–!”

   “And that’s why she’s hiding over there? From my experience, people don’t tend hide behind other people unless nervous, harassed, or provoked.”

   Lilac snorts annoyedly, “It’s a slave. Not a person.”

   “And you don’t deny harassing her now. Come with me, unless you want even more trouble by resisting an officer.”

   Looking behind you– because you need a distraction from this right now– Chanyeol is in a very similar defensive position as Jongdae is, if not a tad more relaxed knowing that everything will end soon. Kyungsoo is hanging towards the back corner, watching the entire scene carefully. All of the art is unharmed, and the wall dividers are safely propped up. To your side, Baekhyun apparently decided that he wasn’t needed at some point and left Minseok’s side to make his way to the very back of the booth. He safely sits there with Sehun and Junmyeon. Minseok stands exactly where he has been with a confidence that slaves shouldn’t have, but you doubt anyone will question it out loud with his dark and cool hair color.

   “ _Y/n_.”

   You snap your gaze to Jongdae’s. His tone and the way he’s looking at you shows that that wasn’t the first time he called your name, especially since he called you by just your first name in such a public place. He stands in front of you with his hands on your shoulders, eyes boring into yours.

   “Are you– well, you’re obviously not  _okay_ , but are you better than you were a few minutes ago?”

   You can’t hold back a small, tired smile. Not that you’d want to, anyway, “I’m better.” Looking around, the officer took your ex-friends away, leaving the area in silence, whether it’s a calm or tense silence is yet to be determined. “I’m actually okay. No need to worry this time around. I think with all the conflicts I’ve been running into recently, I’ve been learning how to handle these things better. Or maybe I’m temporarily desensitized after what happened last week.”

   Chanyeol puts and hand high on your back, “I don’t think that’s how anxiety works, but as long as you’re feeling okay, then whatever works for you, I guess.”

   “Did you want to head home early? Just in case it’s a delayed reaction?” Minseok makes steps over to you three.

   “No, I don’t ever have delayed reactions. Besides, I need to finish this commission. I’m nearly done and she’ll be here soon.” You smile brightly at whoever of your slaves make eye contact with you. “I really think I’m okay this time. Give me a little while and I think I’ll even be back to normal. I can’t thank you guys enough.”

   Kyungsoo responds to you from the background, and you can hear the relief and smile in his voice “There’s no need to thank us. It’s our pleasure.”

   “What I would give to have slaves like yours.”

   You jerk and spin to face the owner of the masculine voice. He has a neatly trimmed beard and his hair is pulled back into a neat bun with the sides cut shorter. His bright orange t-shirt and cargo shorts make him easily identifiable as the helper of the owner of the booth diagonal from yours.

   “Ah– yes, well, they do treat me so very kindly. I’m forever grateful for it.”

   He takes a couple steps closer and lowers his voice to a normal, indoor volume, “Is there a need to be thankful for slaves you bought? They’re just doing what they were trained to do.”

   “They don’t have to be so cheerful while doing it, though, and they don’t have to protect me so eagerly like they do.”

   “I’m sure you paid a good sum for slaves of this level.” He takes a step closer, almost too close for your liking. “I’d expect nothing less from the daughter of one of the most influential people within the ESE.”

   You immediately see Jongdae, Minseok, and Kyungsoo stiffen, while Chanyeol puts on an act of nonchalance, only given away by the hardening of his eyes. The man instantly notices and backs up a step.

   “I actually have only bought one of them through the ESE. I just treat my slaves right and take care of them in return for their work.” You see the uncertainty in his features, so you continue, “If I must make a comparison for you, it’s similar to sheltering and feeding a horse in exchange for having it pull a cart of heavy materials for you.” you manage saying, knowing everyone knows the act by now. The man puts his hands down and his face relaxes.

   “That is a very good point. But there are people out there who argue that slaves are less than animals.”

   Normally, you would stop right now. You would let the other person believe what they believe and go about your day, but for some reason, you don’t want to. Not right now, anyway. He doesn’t look like he’s challenging you, only trying to understand how you see things. Besides, what is he going to do? Call the police on you for suspected rebellious activity? Acting like the rest of the animals that own slaves has become almost second nature to you after all this time, and you have no ties to the rebellion, so they’ll find nothing suspicious even if they do look.

   “People fertilize and water mint plants, and in return they ward off insects and can be used as an ingredient, and yet plants are considered less than animals by some. They are also considered more important than animals by others. It’s all a matter of opinion.”

   The man tilts his head curiously at you, as if he’d never thought of it that way before, but something’s off. He nods once with a small smile, but instead of leaving like you thought, he strolls further into you booth and begins looking at your work. You take this chance to quickly glance to Jongdae and another to Chanyeol on your other side. You’re not the only one that thinks something’s missing.

   You watch as he notices the other five hovering in the back, and you see the question form in his head and go to answer it before he asks. However, he asks his question before you can speak, and what comes out of his mouth isn’t at all what you were expecting.

   “Do you not have enough chairs for everyone?”

   Sehun, Junmyeon, and Minseok have claimed the three uncomfortable, plastic chairs that you brought with you today, while Baekhyun and Kyungsoo relax on the ground, Baekhyun pulling at the grass beneath him and Kyungsoo sitting with his legs crossed neatly. You didn’t bring chairs for everyone, or any that were comfortable, because people can be problematic. You’ve already had a small group complain that slaves shouldn’t have chairs. However, you’ve noticed that there are many more that look at them pitifully. Maybe tomorrow you’ll bring better chairs for them and see how well it fares.

   “Not with me, I don’t. I wasn’t sure about how it would sit with the people around me. I planned on bringing more next time, though.”

   “You should. Believe it or not, a lot of people around here feel kind of bad for the ones having to sit on the ground.”

   “May I speak, Miss Y/n?” Junmyeon calls out suddenly.

   “Of course, Suho.”

   “The grass and ground over here is very soft compared to other parts of the ground, and sitting here in the shade is much better than being forced to stand at attention near the sunny front of the booth.”

   “You’ve had to do that before?” The stranger’s eyes widen and he turns to you in shock.

   You answer for Junmyeon, “He used to belong to my mother, and she is very against the way I do things. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s had to do something similar to that before.”

   Junmyeon nods an affirmative to your suspicion, and it makes you hate that woman even more. Even dogs get to sit and relax while on the job. “Less than animals” or not, people are still living, moving beings that deserve better than what they’ve got now. Your contempt for the woman must show on your face, because the man is raising an eyebrow at you. You quickly slip on your figurative mask and smile an acknowledgement. He smiles back.

   “Well, I know your name, but you don’t know mine, I assume?” You shake your head. “My name is Torrence.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, and you do just that.

   “I don’t know how to respond since you already recognize me.” you blurt awkwardly. The man must find it amusing because he starts laughing lightly.

   From there, you start talking about art. He compliments your work and shares that he isn’t an artist himself, but is just here to help a friend out with his booth a few spots down. When you sit back down to finish your commission so you could have it done in time, he steps away to chat with the others sitting under the tree. If it weren’t for Jongdae standing guard right next to you, and the fact that Chanyeol and Baekhyun are over there with the others, you’d be looking over your shoulder more than you’d be looking at your nearly-finished product.

   This man is very strange, and it makes you think a bit. He’s making it obvious that he sees slaves as people too, and not just lowly objects to own. He’s been chatting with them for just under half an hour by now, and you can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t left to his booth yet. No one except you really talks to slaves like this, and even then, you never do so out in such a public place.

   Just as the paint finishes drying, the woman returns to pick it up. She pays the other half of the fee and leaves happily. Judging by how her fiancé is smiling and mostly leading the way, they’re on their way home now. Jongdae catches you staring after them and leans into your side a moment to bring your attention back to your booth. You decide that it wouldn’t hurt to go over and chat with all the others.

   As soon as you take a few steps towards them, however, Torrence stands up from where he was leaning on the table and turns around, likely preparing to leave. He smiles brightly at you, much more brightly than you’re used to anyone beyond Jongdae, Chanyeol, and Minseok giving.

   “Your companions think very highly of you, Y/n.”

   Companions.  _Companions_. Not slaves. Not pets. Not things. Not specimens. Your  _Companions_.

   Did you somehow actually manage to run into another person against the ESE? It’s too good to be true.

   “I’m glad they do. I care about them a lot.” You look beyond Torrence to meet the eyes of the group of men behind him. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

   Torrence’s voice snaps your attention back to him. “I really enjoyed talking with everybody today. Is it alright if we exchange numbers? Maybe we can meet up again in the future?”

   That almost sounds like he’s hitting on you. Jongdae must have the same idea because neither you or Torrence miss how Jongdae shifts his weight towards you, and even though you can’t see his face, something tells you his expression hardened by the slightest bit.

   Or maybe that’s just Sehun’s words getting to your head again. Of course Jongdae is going to be protective of you from a man you’ve only met just barely an hour ago. It’s not like there are many good examples of trustful men in your life that don’t currently live with you.

   “Um…” you try to come up with a response to turn him down, but he interrupts you before you can continue.

   “Oh! No, not in that way.” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “I’m already in a relationship. I just genuinely enjoyed chatting with all of you.”

   Companions. Everybody. All of you. There’s no way he’s slipping up this badly, he’s saying these things on purpose. Now, the question is, is he on your father’s side and acting as a spy, or does he really share your morals and views? Is it worth taking the risk?

   A part of you that could be considered too large screams that it is. That if having an ally is a possible outcome, it’s worth the chance (that it’s convinced is small) that it’s a spy. Besides, it reasons with the anxiety that’s beginning to bubble up inside you, if he does turn out to be a spy, you can just say you were following along and playing spy in hopes of finding the source of the “problem” yourself.

   “Yea, okay. Sure. What’s your number?”

   You feel the other’s stares as you punch his number into your spare and mostly useless phone that you only bring as emergency back up to these types of events. He turns and makes his way out of the tent before you can give him your number, calling a farewell to your group of slaves sitting near the back.

   You step and sit back on your cushioned stool to watch him enter a booth. Once you’re positive he isn’t going anywhere and isn’t watching you, you take your spare phone and enter in the number you were given. You won’t miss this phone if this happens to be some kind of fake or malicious contact instead of his own.

   As much as you usually hate calling people, you want to see, not just hear, that Torrence is actually the guy you’re contacting. You call the number and let the phone ring. You watch as Torrence does in fact reach into his back pocket, looks at the number, then answer his phone.

   “Hello?”

   “Hi, I just wanted to make sure this was actually your number.” You realize how that sounds and try to amend it. “Not that I don’t trust you! I just–” The man smiles a closed-mouth smile and spins to look back at you. His lips move a second before you hear his words due to the slight lag of phones, which is a bit strange to experience.

   “It’s okay, I understand,” he chuckles lightly, “You have to be on guard with who you’re related to. That unexpected interview last week doesn’t help either, I assume.”

   You nod, knowing that he sees it, “Well, it was nice to meet and talk with you, Torrence.”

   “You too, Y/n.” He hangs up, then waves before turning back to his work.

   You look behind you to silently ask the other’ opinions on your action, and everyone except Jongdae and Chanyeol seem at least tolerant of it. Although, you expected this. Those two are the most protective of you. They’re the ones that have seen how badly things can get with you if things go wrong, of course they’re gonna be iffy with you swapping numbers with a stranger.

   You reach and quickly squeeze both of their hands, and that calms them both down. Chanyeol leaves to return where everyone regrouped in the back to lounge again after standing behind you for the call. Jongdae, however, sticks by your side like he normally would at home. You don’t try to get him to join the others or back up a step so he isn’t so close. It’s comforting to have him back where he belongs.

   You also don’t think about the fact your head is convinced he now belongs so close to your side. It’s just Sehun’s words messing with your head after all. It has to be.

**•◊•◊•◊•◊•**

   It’s the next day and you’re finally packing up your booth along with everyone else. Usually these art fairs only last a day, but this was a particularly large one, so it lasted for two. Most artists slept in tents by their booths or, if they had enough room, inside the booths themselves. You most definitely did not have enough room to fit eight people, so you and the other members of your household opted for two tents in the back, and Kyungsoo volunteered to sleep in the booth, being a light sleeper and needing some time to himself.

   It’s gotten to the point of packing up where if you tried to help with anything, you’d only get in the way and make things too crowded, so you decide to check up on Torrence and Neil’s progress on packing up their booth. Since you got his number yesterday, you and Torrence have chatted a couple of times, usually when he came over to chat when things were getting slow. They’re not bad people, you just can’t see yourself being close friends with them either. There’s still something off about them. At first you thought it was the fact they obviously see slaves as people rather than objects, but that’s not quite it. All you know is that once you figure it out you’re probably going to feel dumb for not figuring it out sooner.

   Starting your short walk over to their booth, you hear Junmyeon call out to you from behind.

   “Miss Y/n!”

   You turn to face him, “Yes, Suho?”

   “Would it be acceptable for me to accompany you on your trip? Everything’s going ahead of schedule.”

   You smile kindly, you haven’t had proper alone time with Junmyeon in a while now. Even if it’s out in public and you’re not actually going to be alone, it’ll still be nice to hang around someone that isn’t Jongdae, Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, or Minseok for a change. Not that they aren’t great company, but it’s still nice to be around other people.

   “Of course. I’m just going over to Torrence and Neil’s booth, though, so nowhere really exciting.” you say as Junmyeon catches up. Once he’s at your side, you begin walking again.

   “That’s quite alright. Our– Your booth is just getting a bit crowded with so many people doing what little there’s left to do.”

   “I agree. That’s why I was heading out.”

   Junmyeon isn’t able to respond because you’ve made it to the others’ booth and they’ve caught sight of you.

   “Y/n! Suho! What brings you two here?”

   “My area was getting crowded with everyone working to take it down, so I wanted to see if you guys needed help. Suho decided to tag along for the same reason.”

   “Ah, well, we could use help with putting the charms in their spots in the totes.”

   For the next two hours, that’s exactly what you and Suho did. Putting charms away, helping to fold chairs and tables, collapsing the tent over their booth; all simple, little things that would have taken up more of Neil and Torrence’s day if it were just the two of them.

   At some point, Minseok and Baekhyun had also decided that there wasn’t much left they could do without getting in other people’s ways and made their way over to where you are now. The six of you loaded everything into Neil’s truck, and by the time the last item is placed and the door is shut, it’s just past dinner time and everyone is hungry.

   “Hey,” Neil calls out, “I know a really good restaurant-styled place that’s not too far fromhere, how about you join us for dinner?”

   You don’t exactly feel comfortable going into a public place with all seven of your legal slaves. Not only will they likely not be welcome to eat any meals, they’ll also probably expected to stand at attention the whole time as well. Plus, you don’t want another “impromptu” interview, especially since the list of possible candidates for the promotion of new co-owner of the ESE has shortened significantly recently, and your father is still on that list.

   Torrence must see the wariness slip through your expression because he’s quickly begins speaking.

   “This place is really good, I promise. I almost always see a slave or a few sitting down and eating meals too, and it’s kind of out of the way so it doesn’t get a lot of public attention.”

   “You just described some kind of bar where help won’t be available if something happens,” Neil half-teases, “and I don’t think that’s very comforting to a woman, especially one of her status.”

   “Well, at least I tried. But I promise it’s actually a pretty cool place.”

   You look toward Junmyeon, then to Minseok and Baekhyun, each sending you a look of mixed uncertainty and hope.

   “I’ll have to ask the others before I make a decision.”

   “Of course! I wouldn’t expect anything less!”

   There it is again, that “something’s off” feeling. You don’t know if it’s how Neil said it, or the way he said it, or the way he seems genuinely happy that you’re asking your slaves for their opinion. It’s not even unsettling in itself anymore. It’s only unsettling to you because you still can’t figure out why you’re getting this gut feeling even after knowing what you know. Even Kyungsoo said something was strange about them beyond them being obvious slave sympathizers, but he believes them to be kind people. If even Kyungsoo doesn’t know, then they have to be professional actors or something.

   Outwardly, you nod, then head back to the zombie killer where everything is packed up neatly and everyone who wasn’t with you is leaned up against the sides of it. They look relaxed and kind of like they’re enjoying themselves, not at all how slaves are supposed to appear. You note that a couple of week ago this would have made you tense and have you constantly looking over your shoulder, but now it just fills you with a sense of ease, almost. It’ll probably return to normal when you’re not in an area that seems alright with slaves being this casual.

   You call for their attention, and, instead of straightening up and giving formal nods, they call out their own greetings. After you ask for their opinion on the “restaurant”, everyone except Sehun and Jongdae like the idea of going, but they admit that they are willing to go for the rest of the group and to investigate.

   It takes about 30 minutes of following Neil’s and Torrence’s truck and some weaving through city traffic and squeezing through back roads, but you all finally arrive at this restaurant. It’s two stories tall with a patio and balcony in the front, and is surrounded by older buildings, with only one entrance/exit road leading to the secluded parking area. Even from here and through the darkness of the quickly setting sun you can see people with collars on sitting and eating among the outdoor tables with smiles on their faces. Even if you hadn’t noticed, Chanyeol suddenly poking and nudging you in excitement while impatiently pointing in their direction would have quickly enlightened you of it.

   The whole place is in a more ghetto place, as your father would describe it, with buildings run down and pavement littered with cracks. The building itself looks like it’s seen better days, with old, white paint peeling in certain places, revealing the wood under and the roof covered in standard shingles. It looks like it was purposely built to resemble a house that’s been converted into a restaurant. The small neon sign glowing “Under the Rug” in magenta looking old and imperfect adding to the almost homemade look of everything.

   Minseok somehow manages to park this behemoth of a truck within the lines of a parking space and the eight of you hop out. Immediately, Chanyeol and Minseok start practically vibrating with excitement. Meanwhile, Sehun and Jongdae remain suspicious of the place and the two new men. Jongdae plasters himself to your side with Sehun on his other side and Junmyeon on yours. Poor Kyungsoo is trying his hardest to calm down the men that are literal bouncing around while Baekhyun stands off to the side, knowing well that there isn’t much there can be done about them.

   You hear a laugh behind you and spin to see Torrence’s head tilted back. Neil appears to be more pleased than amused at the sight of the two man-children. Neil approaches your small group with a bright smile while Torrence tries to control his hearty laughter in the background.

   “I’m glad I decided to invite you all here. You’d think they’ve never had food that wasn’t prepared by them with these kinds of reactions.”

   “You’ll just have to ignore them for a little while. They’ll calm down.” Baekhyun informs, apparently seeing no need to ask permission to speak around here, “Xiumin thought he wouldn’t be able to eat out again, and Chanyeol hasn’t been able to in a long while.”

   “Oh?”

   “Yea,” is all Baekhyun replies with, obviously not willing to give any more information than that.

   “Huh.” Neil sighs, shifting his gaze to the ground as he begins the short walk to the doors of the restaurant. “Well, I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves, anyway.”

   At that moment, Torrence thanks Kyungsoo for holding the door open, somehow appearing ahead of you guys when he was lagging behind before. You thank Kyungsoo as well, relishing the fact that you can do that here without getting judgmental stares and/or harsh comments.

   Inside the place, apparently actually called “Under the Rug”, is much nicer than the outside suggests, but it still keeps that homely touch about it. The walls are all stained wood, the ground is a mixture of plain industrial carpet and linoleum tiles, and the ceiling a textured white. All of the tables look like they were bought at a used furniture store, rather than in bulk like they had to have been. The waitresses are all wearing normal clothes, some in t-shirts and jeans and others in leggings and hoodies. The only way they differed from the customers are the navy waist aprons and small name tags pinned to their tops.

   You could get used to a place this casual.

   “Torrence! Neil! I haven’t seen you since two weeks ago!”

   You turn forward towards the voice and find a woman with smooth, tan skin and straight, black hair that reaches her mid back even when though it’s tied up in a ponytail. She’s wearing high-waisted skinny jeans and a crop top and dark tennis shoes. She leans over to a podium-like thing to start pulling out menus for everyone.

   “Hey Aiko! We didn’t stay away on purpose, we’ve just been a bit busy lately.” Torrence replies in front of you.

   “You better’ve been! If I find out you’ve been avoiding me–”

   “Then you’ll cut us, we get it.” Neil laughs lightly, “We’re gonna need a table for ten today, Aiko.”

   “I see that, right this way! You guys are alright with outdoor seating, right?”

   Instantly there are eight pairs of eyes on you, with Neil the only one who decided against it. You know that your group is looking at you because it’s usually you that makes the calls, but not tonight. You’re not exactly sure why Torrence is staring at you the same way as the others are, though. That feeling of “offness” is coming back and it’s starting to become properly irritating.

   “I don’t mind either way. It’s up to you guys.” you manage to squeak out, your voice not doing what you wanted it to.

   “I’d like outside!” Chanyeol cheers.

   “Yesss!”

   “Xiumin, please–”

   “You’re such a party pooper, Baekhyun!” Minseok whines loudly, putting his arms back down from raising them excitedly.

   “Am not! I just have manners!”

   “We’re not gonna be able to control them tonight.” Jongdae speaks lowly in your ear as everyone else joins in on the commotion.

   “It’s probably a good idea that we’re gonna be outside.” you respond as Aiko begins leading the large group up the stairs and through the second floor of the restaurant. “I feel bad for the people we’re passing on our way to the table, I don’t want to have to worry about bothering them for up to an hour.”

   Jongdae softly chuckles, “I agree.”

   Aiko opens the door to the balcony and shows you all to a space where three smaller tables were pushed together to form one long one. Everyone sits down, a few needing to readjust the cushions placed separately on the wooden chairs as they do so. Jongdae obviously takes the spot next to you on the right, and Neil takes your left. Sehun sits at one end of the table, Jongdae on one side and Junmyeon on the other, and Minseok takes the other, much more used to having his own space while eating.

   Everyone falls into a pleasant chatter, and you’re happy to fall into the background like you always do when with a group. Chanyeol looks ecstatic sitting across from you, and you’re almost guilty you haven’t tried to find a place like this before. Everyone looks pleased, even Sehun does under all the nervous energy he obviously has. You decide to check up on him, since this outing is most likely affecting him the most.

   “You doing okay, Sehun?”

   His snaps up from where he was studying the menu, “Yes ma– miss Y/n. may I ask why you asked?”

   “You’re the least used to things like this, I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t overwhelming.”

   “Oh… It is, in a way. But it isn’t bad, I don’t think.”

   “I know you still don’t trust me, but if you need a break, then let me know. Okay?”

   He nods and turns his attention back to the menu. You already know what dish you’re having, so all there’s left to do is to sit back and listen to the pleasant chatter of everyone else.

   “That was very kind of you, Y/n.”

   Or maybe not. You forgot who was sitting on your other side for half a moment.

   “It was just human decency. You’d probably do the same.” you weakly try to deflect.

   “Even human decency is getting hard to find these days. You should give yourself more credit, especially with who and what your parents are.”

   Jongdae butts into the conversation. “People shouldn’t judge others by their parents.”

   “Yes,” you agree, “but the sayings ‘Like father like son’ and ‘like mother like daughter’ don’t exist for no reason.”

   “Yea, but still…”

   “No offense, but you’re much more mature than your relatives seem to be.”

   “I guess it helps that I’m not actually related to them.” You decide to tell him.

   “What?”

   “I’m adopted. Apparently I was a doorstep baby.”

   You’re not able to say any more because Aiko comes back to take everyone’s order. Once she leaves the talking and laughing begins again, and you contentedly melt into the background once more. Sehun looks like he’s even opening up to Jongdae and Junmyeon a bit more, and no longer stays completely silent when Chanyeol tries to bring him into the conversation. Even Baekhyun, who can usually be compared to a babysitter for Minseok, is loosening up and is cracking jokes and laughing loudly. Even Jongdae and Neil end up talking for a bit, so you slowly lean back in their chair so they don’t have to stare at your head while trying to communicate.

   That’s when you’re able to see the sky. There aren’t many stars at all– a total of 9 that you can see– but the misty layer of clouds that coat parts of the sky like light, rolling fog reflects some of the light from the city, giving the sky a beautiful glowing effect. It also helps that it’s a full moon tonight, so everything on the ground has a relatively dim, silver spotlight on it. Only the various sounds of city life and the people at your table interrupt the serenity of it all.

   Eventually, Aiko comes back with another waiter to pass out all of the food. For a minute or two, everyone is quiet. For as old and worn in as this place may look, the food here is delicious, and you’ll definitely be back here again in the future. Although, you think you’d be back either way if it means getting to see everyone this happy and laid back in public.

   “Y/n!”

   You snap your head to Torrence, “Hm?”

   He laughs, “We’ve been trying to get your attention, you’re very quiet today.”

   “I’m just taking in everything, no need to worry.” you smile.

   “You do seem pleased” Neil points out.

   “I am.” Most people have already lost interest in what you need to say and have gone back to their own conversations. “It’s nice being out somewhere like this with everyone. I’m sure you can imagine.”

   Neil suddenly leans closer to you, and when you try to put some space between you, he just inches closer. His face turns darker and more serious, and you have a very strong feeling that you’re about to see for yourself what’s truly off with these two. His voice is low as he speaks.

   “Is that why you’re looking for the rebels.”

   Oh. He knows.

   You were right before, you feel very  _very_  dumb for not figuring it out sooner. You’re like the white girl in horror films. You always thought you were better than that, though. Apparently not.

   The only question is, whose side is he on? A spy or a recruiter?

   You carefully keep your face as neutral, if not appearing genuinely curious, as possible as you ask quietly.

   “Where did you hear that from?”

   “Depends on why you were looking for them.”

   You’re apparently not desensitized to stressful situations enough to remain completely calm in this scenario.

   “Depends on why you want to know.” Jongdae accuses back.

   You’re distantly aware that you’re now leaning against him and he has a hand protectively on your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that you’ve grabbed Chanyeol’s attention. You look at him with only your eyes and minutely shake your head, signaling to him that you’ll handle it. You know that Neil and Jongdae see it beyond Chanyeol, but you’re hoping no one else does.

   “Touché. It appears we’re in a stalemate, then. Because I’m not saying anything else unless I know what your intentions are.”

   “And what makes you think we’ll trust you with that.”

   “ESE or Rebellion?” Baekhyun blurts from the other side of Neil, gathering everyone’s attention. “We aren’t talking until you talk first. No negotiations.”

   There’s several moments of tense silence. You aren’t sure if in reality it lasted a couple of seconds or several minutes, but Torrence finally, thankfully, breaks it.

   “Rebellion.”

   You let out a huff of air you weren’t aware you were holding. It must have been louder than you thought because everyone snaps their attention to you, each mixed with a different concoction of emotions.

   “You’re shaking.” Jongdae hushly informs.

   “Am I?” Looking down at your hands, you’re surprised to not find them still. “Oh. Huh. Guess I’m not desensitized after all.” You attempt to huff out a pitiful excuse of a laugh.

   “I told you that’s not how it worked.” he smiles gently. You identify it as the smile he always wears when he’s trying to appear calm for you. It almost doesn’t help this time.

   “What do you plan to do with us, then? Because I highly doubt you simply invited us all out here for a casual get together if you are who you say you are.” Kyungsoo gets straight to the point.

   “Depends whose side you’re on. Were you looking in the less fortunate areas of the city to spy or to join?”

   The silence that follows afterward is even more suffocating than the last one. No one wants to give away anymore information in the case the other is a spy, but someone has to give in first or else things are going to turn for the worse no matter what. Gathering as much of that fake bravery you had while talking with Allie, you take a deep breath and hope you aren’t making the biggest mistake of your life.

   “When I was young, I never understood the concept of slavery. People were just people, it was just that some worked in houses and others didn’t. By the time I figured it out, I had made a few good friends who were all slaves, and that helped me keep my head when my father was trying to get me into the slave business.

   “I’ve technically only bought one slave, and that was Chen. D.O. was a gift to me as a way to try to get me to want more slaves. I rescued Chanyeol as a stray. I bought Chen at one of the ESE monthly events because my ex-friend decided to abandon him last minute. I saved Sehun and my mother gave me Suho because she was tired of having him around. Then I took in Xiumin when the new law named him a slave, and Baekhyun was his ‘slave’ in the same way they are all ‘slaves’ to me.” You pause to take a breath, and when nobody immediately goes to talk, you continue, albeit more self consciously and with your head down.

   “I trust that you are telling the truth. Something about you two had always seemed a bit off, and linking you to the rebellion helps explain it. So I hope me telling you this will prove that I am not on my father’s side.” You raise your head, “We’re interested in joining the rebellion because slaves shouldn’t exist in this day and age, and we’re tired of having to hide ourselves behind an act whenever we want to so much as speak to someone on the phone or go pick up a snack from the store down the road.”

   Torrence and Neil look at each other with expressions that minutely change frequently. You’re positive that they’re somehow having an entire silent conversation with each other. Finally, they firmly nod to each other and turn to you and the rest of the table with hardened expressions. You feel Jongdae tense behind you, obviously preparing for some type of conflict, and a quick glance around shows that the only ones that don’t look prepared for a fight of some sort are Junmyeon and Sehun.

   Instead of starting something, though, Neil’s and Torrence’s faces melt into proud smiles. They’re not unlike the ones your father would give you when you got a particularly good grade on something in school.

   “Well, if you really wanna join the rebels, then I guess you’re gonna need to know where our base is.” Torrence says with a smile in his voice, standing up from his chair.

   Neil pays for everyone’s meal and stands from his chair as well, “You know where to look if you really want to join us. And you all know to come alone.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “I hope you don’t disappoint us, Y/n.”

   “Goodnight everyone!” Torrence calls cheerfully with a large wave.

   They quickly leave, and no one tries to stop them or ask questions. The nine of you sit in silence for a minute or two simply trying to process what happened. The first person to speak is Chanyeol.

   “You think they have someone who has a good intuition about people like D.O.?”

   “That would make the most sense on why they want us to go to them again, rather than just leading us there.” you reply.

   Sehun speaks for the first time in a while tonight, “Maybe they also want to know that we’ll come alone and not have any trackers or recorders or something in the future.”

   “Like a test.” Junmyeon says the question like a statement.

   “Yea, to see if we’re trustworthy,” Baekhyun clarifies, “I’ve done the same thing for people who wanted to get to Mins– Xiumin before.” Minseok nods in confirmation to this information.

   “So,” Jongdae begins, “Are we going tomorrow night?”

   “No.” you say, finally taking your weight off of Jongdae. “We’ll go now. If we go tomorrow then it could be taken as time we’ve taken to prepare some kind of plan to subdue them or something. I know because that’s how my dad thinks. If we do it now with all of the stuff in the truck still, they’ll know we didn’t stop anywhere to pick up stuff,” you gesture to Sehun, referring to what he said.

   “Would going over too quickly seem suspicious, though?” asks Minseok.

   Jongdae answers, “Maybe, but it can’t hurt too much to try… Can it?”

   Everyone either shrugs or shakes their head while looking at every other person at the table. Another silence cloaks the balcony, this time of the contemplative variety.

   “So we leave to search right now?” Junmyeon finally asks, starting to become nervous. He and Sehun haven’t been on a single one of your night outings.

   “I don’t see why not.” Chanyeol states, standing up. “It’s already been– how long since they left?”

   You check the time on your phone, “Just about 15 minutes now.”

   “Then now’s a good a time as any.”

   With that, everyone ups and leaves the table, and you give the waiter a good tip, not knowing how much of a tip Neil gave her and not loving that he paid for everyone even though you guys barely trust each other. You and the others bid the waitresses and waiters farewell when the do the same to you as you leave the building, then climb into the large truck that barely fits in the parking space.

   It’s finally time to join the rebels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy $#!7??? Kara actually updated???? And not on a Monday??????? 😂😂 Seriously though, I am sorry for the late update. Don’t y’all love it when life and school work together to kick your @$$? Hopefully, the next update won’t take 4 months to appear, but I am in the middle of moving houses again, so it may be a hot second 😅 I hope you’re liking where Abounded is headed so far, and I hope this doesn’t read like a dull, filler chapter like I feel like it might, but oh well I guess XD Next chapter, if gone according to plan, the next chapter is going to be an entire thing so it hopefully Abounded won’t be _as much_ of a slow burn Lol. Whelp, I hope you all have a lovely day/night, and you all stay beautiful and wonderful! Thank you for sticking around!! 😊💕💕


	13. Tentative Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some swearing

    On the way to the same abandoned parking lot you’ve been frequenting lately, you notice a few things. First off, there’s been someone following behind you this whole time. They aren’t obvious at all, and no one else seems to have noticed yet, but you’ve been raised to look over your shoulder every moment you’re outside of the safety of your parents’ or your own home. You’d be extremely concerned and likely near panicking if the car trailing behind you sloppily wasn’t the same one you followed to the restaurant earlier, with matching license plates and everything. Although, just because you’re not panicking doesn’t mean you’re not more than a little concerned or uncomfortable, just not enough to have the other seven people in the car start worrying about it too.

    Secondly, you wonder if they were just good actors and they aren’t really with the rebellion. Anyone could have seen you guys wandering those neighborhoods and any investigator for the ESE could easily figure out why. You have a feeling that this is your anxiety talking, though. God, you hope you weren’t just played like a stack of cards. Kyungsoo didn’t seem horribly off put with them once the beans were spilled, so you’ll just have to trust him and his gut and hope they’re right again.

    It doesn’t take too terribly long to get to the parking lot, and by then, Minseok has driven on enough backroads for everyone to know that the truck behind you isn’t there by coincidence. No one has mentioned it aloud, but there’s a silent agreement that everyone knows that everyone else knows about it. In the old, cracked parking lot, there is a woman dressed in dark leather and boots leaning on a black motorcycle. She looks up when your car approaches and stands to her full height.

    You, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo have already been in a situation similar to this before, and already have plans A through E created just in case things go sour or become escalated. You turn around in the passenger seat to make eye contact with both of them. They nod at you, and you nod back. The plans are in effect as of now. They’ll have your back and will come to your rescue just in case these people try to harm or kidnap you. You don’t think it will come to that tonight, though.

    You open the door and step out of the zombie killer, putting a hand on Jongdae’s knee when he tries to get up from where he sat in the center seat next to you and follow you out. He ignores your hand and keeps moving, turning to step out. You put your other hand on his shoulder and push back slightly.

    “Stay.” you hiss under your breath, not wanting the three rebels to hear you.

    “No.” he copies your volume, “I’m not leaving you alone out there. I don’t care if you’re used to it, I’m going with you.”

    With that, he pushes past your admittedly weak hold and steps to the ground. Immediately noticing how close that put you two, you take two steps back. He steps to the side and shuts the door behind him.  _ Now _ , the plans are officially in effect. Hopefully Chanyeol and Kyungsoo can improvise with Jongdae being out of the car too.

    “Hello, Y/n!” Torrence calls cheerily behind you, where he parked their truck, “You came straight here, that made our job of making sure you weren’t getting into trouble a lot easier.”  He laughs genuinely, as if he had just told a joke. “Thank you!”

    You feel Jongdae come up close behind you as you begin speaking, “Well, I know my dad does the same thing to people he doesn’t trust, and I don’t like people invading my privacy.”

    “Unless you already have.” snaps Jongdae.

    “Woah, easy.” The motorcycle rider calls from behind you. Jongdae grips your shoulder and forces your sideways, so no one is behind you anymore. “No, we haven’t done anything like that. And even if we wanted to, we aren’t stupid enough to mess with your kind.” The woman walks up to you and Jongdae, removing her helmet to reveal straight, black hair styled in a taper cut. She shoves her hand towards you, “You can call me Mila, and I’ll be calling you Y/n.”

    You take and shake her hand cautiously, “Okay then. Hello, Mila.”

    She barks a startling, loud laugh, and her grip on your hand suddenly becomes near painful, “So nervous! What for? You got anything hidden in that truck of yours you don’t want us to know about?”

    “Mila. Back off.” Neil warns behind you.

    Jongdae’s grip on your shoulder tightens as he leans forward towards Mila, who still hasn’t loosened her grip on you. He shoves his other hand at her, the one on your shoulder slowly moving you behind him.

   “Greetings, Mila.” he greets in mock kindness. You’ve never seen Jongdae like this before, but now you’re kind of glad he followed you out.

    Mila sizes Jongdae up before releasing your hand to take his. You can tell that she holds his hand much tighter than she did yours, yet Jongdae barely reacts.

    “Sup, bong mutt.”

    “ _ Mila _ .” Neil barks, this time definitely closer to where the three of you are. “I said to fucking back off. They’re trustworthy.”

    “And how the fuck do you know that?”

    “I’m an empath and a hacker,” Torrence growls, “Not an idiot. They’re safe.”

    “And how do we know that your stupid ‘gut feelings’ are right? Huh?”

   “And how do we know this isn’t all an act to get us to trust you more?” Jongdae raises his voice behind you, “How do we know you’re not actually working for the ESE and plan to arrest us as soon as we let our guard down?”

    No one has an immediate answer to that, and that doesn’t help the raging anxiety inside that’s begging to let itself be known. Jongdae carefully moves his hand from your shoulder to your forearm in a protective movement. You are  _ so _ glad he’s with you, grounding you, making you feel safer.

    Mila finally breaks the silence, “How do we know that you saying these things aren’t just a trick for us then, hm?”

    “We’ve already covered this at Under the Rug.” Neil steps up next to you, but not too close as to upset your apparent guard dog, Jongdae, and meets your eyes. “They’re trustworthy.” He turns back to Mila. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t judge anyone by who their parents are? Or how they were raised? Unless you forgot where you came from–”

    “Fuck off.” she growls. She sighs and glares warily at you, “Fine. But if our hideout gets discovered and raided, I’m putting all the blame on you. Capisce?”

    “Sounds fair enough.” You sound a lot more confident than you feel.

    “Good. Now are we going to search her truck or..?”

    “Nope.” Torrence calls cheerfully, “They’re all set. All she’s got are art stall set up stuff and some chairs.”

    You feel the hand on your arm loosen it’s death grip at that. You didn’t even realize how tight he was hanging on until this very moment.

    “And we’re going to ignore how many people in that car?” You have a feeling Mila is being difficult for the sake of being difficult now.

    “Six, and yes. We’ve both spoken with them enough to know they’re fine. Now get on your bike and lead the way.” Neil crosses his arms, “And don’t expect to come along on one of these missions again for the foreseeable future.”

    “Excuse me?!–”

    “–Despite how ready you were claiming to be, you've only been a right pain in the ass and have been wasting huge amounts of the time we barely have.”

    “That’s not–”

    “Get on your bike and  _ lead, the, way _ , Mila.” Torrence growls.

    Mila snarls and throws her hands in the air. She opens her mouth to argue further, but Neil shuts it down with a glare harsh enough that even you can feel its effect. She huffs loudly and stomps over to her bike, grumbling about something that sounds like being unsafe or something of the like. Torrence turns to you while Neil continues to glare daggers in Mila’s direction.

    “We’re so sorry about that. We don’t know what her problem is. She’s usually not that bad.”

    “Well, it’s understandable when you’re bringing the daughter of one of the ESE faces to a rebellion base or camp or whatever you guys call these.” You try to smile, but it likely looks as wrong as it feels. “Speaking of which, are we gonna have to stay there full time? Because that isn’t going to work.”

    “No, you won’t. We don’t have many people that aren’t runaways or registered slaves, but the ones who still have lives go home and only visit as often as weekly or once every month or two–” The sound of Mila’s motorcycle cuts him off as she purposefully revs the engine.

    “Come on!” Neil has to yell to be heard over the obnoxious engine, “We should get going before Mila tries to twist the truth on us or something! Just follow behind her and we’ll be behind you! And do not turn on your location or internet or anything of the sort!”

    With that, the two men jog back to their car, and the hand on your arm shifts to the center of your back then guides you to the passenger door and ushers you inside. You sit in the middle this time instead of Jongdae. You calmly tell Minseok to follow the motorcycle as best as he can, then you fall silent. The others talk amongst themselves, all knowing by now that you’re gathering your thoughts and processing everything so you can properly move on with the evening.

    Unlike what you were sort of expecting, Mila leads you guys well and doesn’t try to purposely leave you behind or astray. She ends up going through the same neighborhood you and Chanyeol were searching through for those several days, but she turns out of the area and farther away from the city rather than towards it. It takes close to 45 minutes, but any buildings from even the downtown, low-pay area are in the distance and there’s nothing but trees and bushes on either side of the old, empty highway you’re driving along. She slows and turns at what looks like a long, dirt driveway that leads to nowhere in the green forest.

    From there it takes close to 30 minutes of Minseok ever-so-carefully maneuvering the zombie killer down the thin road. Even then, there are a few places where you wince because the brush on either side of the truck very likely scratched the paint. You make a mental note to schedule an appointment to have them fixed. Maybe your father will offer to pay it for you if you offer to take in his white convertible as well, since that’s one of his favourite cars and it now has a nasty scratch along the side from some jackass. Maybe that was from a rebel, and not actually a faulty parking job. Who knows?

    Finally, the road ends at a small clearing that’s covered in a green camouflage tent/tarp looking thing. Under it are four cars and another motorcycle parked innocently. If anyone happened to stumble upon the sight, they’d sooner think it’s a private camping ground before a rebellion parking lot. The bird feeders, man-made honeybee hives and ladybug habitats, and small picnic table off to the side sell the image almost perfectly.

    Mila gets off of her bike just before where the tarp covers the clearing and walks up to a tree with what appears to be an abandoned bear trap strapped to it. She fiddles with something that’s inside of it, then jogs back to her bike to ride it under the tarp and park it. Minseok follows carefully and chooses to park closer to the entrance, and Neil parks his truck next to Minseok’s.

    After a signal from Torrence, everyone climbs out of the zombie killer. Almost instantly, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and Jongdae are at your side, and right behind them are Junmyeon and Sehun, also wanting protection from the official guard dogs. The only ones that don’t flock to you are Minseok and Baekhyun, who are busy admiring the new area. Although, you can see Baekhyun’s tense shoulders and Minseok’s fidgeting hands, giving away that they are much more on edge than they outwardly appear.

    “This way, bong dogs!” Mila suddenly shouts from the other side of the parking area.

    “Mila! What did we say?”

    “They’re still bong dogs until they’re officially in and gain our full trust!” she flips Torrence off.

    Chanyeol voice sounds to your left, “What’s a bong dog?”

    Neil sighs and leads everyone to where Mila stormed off into the brush. He carefully steps to not crush too many plants under his feet, and everyone else does the same without questioning or commenting.

    “It’s kind of like a slur around here. Anyone who has power within the slave trading business or a business that supports the trade is a bong, because they always think they’re above or higher than other people on some level. Anyone who doesn’t hold any real power but are loyal to the slave trade cause are bong dogs. Like slaves loyal to their powerful ‘masters’, or desk workers that believe what they’re doing is right, even a random citizen that actively supports the ESE or any of their smaller counterparts.”

    “You’ll probably be called bong dogs by a lot of people for a while.” Torrence calls from behind everyone. “It’ll be best to not get offended and just ignore them. There wasn’t many of us that thought it was a good idea to invite you here, no offence.”

    “None taken,” Kyungsoo states, “We’re surprised we’re even here now. I was prepared for it to take at least months, then several trials to gain your trust after that.” Minseok, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol voice their agreement, but Jongdae remains silent behind you, obviously still on edge from earlier.

    You reach behind yourself to grasp his forearm in an attempt to calm and soothe him. You don’t know how well it works, but it must work well enough because before you can let go, he shifts his arm in your grip so he can hold your wrist in return. This position doesn’t last more than a minute, however, because it grows too difficult to move through the undergrowth steadily with one arm reaching behind you.

    It takes nearly twenty minutes of walking before the group is arrives at another clearing, this one only just barely big enough for a small, wooden hut that’s in great need of some fixing up. They’re silently lead inside, where everyone is ordered to check for any cameras or bugs that could have been left by strangers looking for something to happen. When the all clear is officially given, Neil moves an old dresser to reveal a covered pin pad. He unlocks the cover and inputs a pass-code, then a hatch clicks open directly next to where he’s standing.

    “Woah. I haven’t been able to see one of these in person before…” Chanyeol speaks lowly and in awe. “Does that mean some of the other five sanctuaries in the area are bases for the rebellion too?”

    That makes everyone pause.

    “…How do you know what this is?” Torrence asks first. Chanyeol freezes.

    Kyungsoo inquires next, “Does it have to do with before..?”

    A distant look and slight nod. You take it from there.

    “Chanyeol’s previous owner was abusive and very illegal. We don’t like to talk or think about it.”

    “His gang supposedly set up in one of these a while ago. They had…” Chanyeol says numbly, staring at nothing. He suddenly shakes his head. “Stuff stored there. Anyway, so, sorry ‘bout that. Let’s just get a move on I suppose, or get a move out if I made things too awkward.” His laugh matches the awkward yet concerned air of the room.

    Neil and Torrence stare at one another for a moment before nodding at the same time.

    “Rule two of the rebellion, no one is forced to tell their stories.”

    “Unless it could be pivotal information for the cause.” Neil finishes.

    With that, the duo has completely moved on from the minor incident and is lifting the hatch.

    “There’s nothing in here except living spaces and survival supplies, and this place is reinforced and perfectly safe, so this is a completely safe space.” Neil reassures.

    One by one, everyone climbs down the short ladder (you pointedly don’t think about how everything’s near identical to the one in the manor next door), and starts the long trip down the spiral stairs. Neil was right, though, this place is very sturdy. Everything is made out of stone and concrete, and there are no cracks as far as you can tell. There are regularly-placed support beams on the sides of the staircase, giving more support to the arched ceiling.

    You all have gone down the equivalent of maybe a flight and a half of stairs before there’s a hint of the tunnel ending somewhere. You spot a faint glowing light on the steps in front of you, and as you continue to go down, the light slowly becomes brighter until the source of the light comes into view.

    The staircase apparently leads to a large, warehouse-like structure two stories underground. The bright lights on the high ceilings almost remind you of a supermarket or something, except there are significantly less of them here than there are at any store, and the lights that are there aren’t quite burning at full capacity. All in all, this place is well lit, but not overwhelmingly so.

    The only reason why you’re so in tune with the lighting is because it fits perfectly with the mood this entire place gives off. Concrete walls, domed, concrete ceilings, presumably concrete support pillars in the center of the room at certain intervals. You wouldn’t know if the ground is concrete too because wherever there isn’t some kind of furniture or appliance, there’s industrial carpeting that was obviously taken or stolen from a junkyard or something, if the frayed ends and strange stains have anything to show for it. Plus, there are three smaller rooms that branch off of each side this almost hallway-looking room that probably have important stuff there too.

    All in all, this looks like some kind of bunker one would find in an apocalypse movie or book. Although, that’s not an entirely incorrect scenario in this case, is it? That’s just depressing.

    It takes two more flights worth of stairs (when one climbs stairs multiple times every day without fail, they get good at estimating how many there are) before you and the rest of the group finally hit solid flooring.

    “Alright, stick close to me.” Torrence calls with a smile that almost seems forced, “We’ll give you a basic tour.” He starts walking without checking to see that you’re following.

    The main room with the dark beige “carpeting” (you don’t want to know if it was ever white or even  _ cream _ at one point in time) is– you guessed it– the main room. According to Torrence, it holds all of the basic and random supplies, like boxes of bedding supplies, animal care supplies, non-perishable food and drinks, and random undercover stuff. This is also where the majority of the people like to hang out, since the other rooms have a specific purpose. You already figured that out, though, since there are at least a hundred people staring at you with this look that makes you grip onto Jongdae’s wrist. He takes your hand in his own in return and you determinedly don’t think about it.

    The two connecting rooms closest to the staircase are the animal room to the right and the tech room on the left. You guys aren’t allowed inside the tech room for obvious reasons, but the animal room has chickens, dogs, cats, and a few rabbits. It was made clear that the only animals used for food were the chickens, and any other animals were just pets needing a place to stay. Apparently the beehives they saw earlier are fully functional, and they use that for honey and pollination.

    The right-middle room is the clinic, and this room you all get a tour of. Jongdae releases your hand at some point to poke at something. It’s pretty simple and straight-forward. There’s a sturdy table with a cushion on it and two lounge chairs on either side of that, all different colors and all obviously scavenged from somewhere. Boxes of supplies for supposedly nearly every medical occurrence line the walls, all thanks to a donator who will remain anonymous for the time being, since he still works as a doctor and would very much like to keep his job. You don’t mention that you’re life is just as much on the line as his, if not more, because you know it wouldn’t really help things and you avoid confrontation as best as possible.

    The left-middle room is the kids’ room, where there are probably ten kids of ranging ages doing different things. You spot a couple painting with what you can tell from way in the main room is expired paints and homemade brushes, and another few playing with old ratty dolls and busted, wooden blocks. You make a mental note to buy better things for them if and when you can.

    You’re about to leave that room when someone tugs on your shirt. You jump and whip around to find a small child, couldn’t be any older than eleven, who has pale skin, brown hair, and hazel eyes. She suddenly look somewhat apprehensive.

    “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She folds her hands together innocently. You believe that she genuinely didn’t mean any harm.

    You take a deep breath, “That’s alright, you didn’t know. Was there something you needed?” you ask kindly.

    “Did you come from one of the undergrounds?”

    “I don’t think I understand. What do you mean, ‘undergrounds’?” you’re still using your “talking to a child or scared person” voice. You quickly check behind you and see your group paused at the cubbies apparently for the children to hold their own private items.

    “You don’t have a collar on and your friends do. Wait, does that mean you’re like Joe? He doesn’t have a collar on because he wasn’t ever a slave.”

    “Amelia!” a woman calls patiently from behind you, “What are you doing? Leave her alone, why don’t you?”

    “Sorry mum!” the little girl calls back, then turns to you, “I’m gonna go play now. Bye!” and runs off.

    You suck in a deep breath and let it out shakily as you turn around–

    Where did they go? You were only turned around for less than ten seconds since you last saw them, how can a group of eight grown men disappear so quickly?

    You shuffle to the edge of the entryway for the main and children’s room and quickly look around. You can’t find them. You’re sure that they’re probably just in the next room over or something, but what if they actually aren’t where you think they are and you end up looking even more out of place and like a fool? Besides, do you want to chance having one of these people knowing exactly who you are and wanting to  _ express their opinions _ of you on the way to wherever you’re looking?

    That answer is a very hard “no”.

    So instead, you focus on breathing and not balling your hands into fists and you sit right inside of the children’s room, against the wall in the corner. You curl your legs up against you chest and use more strength than you’d admit to keeping your arms from wrapping around them, instead keeping them tucked (hopefully) semi-casually against your chest.

    You notice Amelia’s mother still staring at you not unkindly, but definitely not welcoming either, and duck your head down and place your chin on your knees. You stop your leg from bouncing now that you realize it was. You untuck your hands in order to fidget with your fingers within your line of sight when a pair of small feet stop in front of you. You look up to find Amelia again.

    “Hello.” you greet politely, your voice thankfully steady.

    “Why are you alone?”

    You decide lying is not a good option with mama watching you like a hawk, “I lost my group a minute ago and I’m kinda scared to look for them.”

    Amelia crouches down to get to your height immediately. “Are you afraid of lots of people too? Fiona is, and that’s why she likes to stay in the resting room a lot, because everyone’s sleeping in there so it’s dark and it always looks like it’s empty.”

    “Is that so?” you entertain.

    “Mhm! Do you wanna go to the resting room?”

    “Uhh, no thank you. I’d rather just wait here for my friends.” you smile awkwardly.

    “Oh! Do you like drawing? I can bring over some of the chalk and chalkboards and we can draw while we wait for them!”

    How can you refuse a face like that? Plus, what else are you going to be doing here besides sitting around?

    “Sure, sounds like fun.”

    She cheers and runs off to the other side of the room to grab the supplies. Not even a minute passes before she’s back with two small, square pieces of chalkboard and one chalk for every color of the rainbow plus white, brown, and grey. She hands one of the chalkboards to you, sits down next to you, and places the chalk in between you once you move your legs into a “criss cross applesauce” position.

    “What are you gonna draw?” Amelia asks excitedly.

    “Probably lake with some mountains.”

    “Oooooo!!” she shouts, leaning into your space. You force down any reaction to it. “Can there be a sunset too? I love sunsets! They’re so pretty! Especially the pink and orange ones!”

    “Sure, I can make it a sunset.”

    “Yay!” She immediately goes back to her own drawing, cheerily humming.

    You start on the cypress tree in the corner of the chalkboard, then the lake, because from your personal experience with chalk, it’s normally better to do foreground first, then background so the colors don’t blend or mix. You then move on to the mountain, pushing back any panic wanting to rise up by internally complaining that chalk and chalkboard is too different and hard to work with compared to chalk pastels and it’s appropriate paper. You start on trying to add any semblance of shading and texture to the mountain when a pair of unfamiliar feet stop to the side of you. You lift your head pretty quickly.

    “Oh, what are you guys making?”

    “Jongin!” the child shouts, all but throwing herself into the black-haired man. “How was the trip? Did you get anything done?”

    The man– Jongin, laughs. “Yes, I did get lots of stuff done. Who’s your friend, here?”

    “She’s new!”

    He smiles kindly, “I see that.”

    You finally manage to get your vocal cords working. “Hello. I hope you don’t mind me just sitting here until my group finds me.” You hold out your hand politely. He takes it.

    “Oh, that’s not a problem at all.” You both drop your arms. “That’s really good.” He points to your picture, which gathers the attention of Amelia.

    “Ooo!! That’s so pretty! We should hang it up!”

    You laugh awkwardly, “It isn’t done yet, and if I’m allowed back, I can always bring back a better one on a canvas for you to keep.”

    “You’d really do that?” she gapes.

    “Yeah!” you try to match her enthusiasm.

    She squeals and throws her arms around you, and as much as you tried to not outwardly react, the apologetic smile Jongin gives you tells you you weren’t quite successful.

    “Thank you!” she squeals right into your ear, you can’t blame her though. “I’m gonna go tell my mom!” And she’s gone.

    Jongin laughs as he sits against the wall next to you. “You really  _ are _ good at this art thing. What was your name?” 

    Does he not recognise you? There may be some hope of you joining here after all.

    “Y/n. Amelia called you Jongin?”

    “Yep! I haven’t been here in a few weeks, so everyone has been wanting my attention recently." There’s a brief pause, “So, you’re new?”

    You shuffle awkwardly and return to your chalk drawing. “Maybe? Today’s my first time being here, actually.” This is going much better than you anticipated.

    “Oh? How do you like it so far?”

    “From what I’ve seen it’s pretty cool. It just sucks that you guys are all cramped underground.”

    He relaxes more and slouches against the wall, as if he was only acting relaxed before.

    “Well, it hopefully won’t be for too much longer, so no worries.”

    A young boy interrupts your conversation, “That’s a really pretty picture.”

    You smile at the boy, seeing that he brought two little girls with him. “Thank you.”

    “Can you do skin painting?” the older of the girls asks. She can’t be older than eight.

    “I’ve never done it before, and I don’t know if I’m allowed or if there are the right supplies here either–”

    “Alright children,” Jongin calls suddenly, interrupting you, “go over to the center crafts table. I’ll bring the face paint over and we’ll see what Miss Y/n here can do.” You wince at what he calls you.

    “Just Y/n is fine, please.” you add quickly. With that, the children nod and run over to the table with little cheers.

    Jongin gets up and heads out of the room, and you decide to go head over to the center table. The three children’s cheers brought the attention of Amelia and a little boy who was playing blocks, and they come over to investigate as well. They all seem so fearless compared to the reserved children you’ve always been around; the ones that have been trained from birth to be respectable and grown up just as you had when you were young. You’re happy that these children can have some semblance of freedom in this prison from the world.

    Just as the children decide that it’s only fair that the girls who suggested the skin pain goes first, Jongin comes back with five mason jars. Each container has one of the primary colors, plus one for black and another for white. Basic painting necessities. He sets then and a few soft brushes and sponge brushes down on the table, then goes back out for water with the order for you to start painting. You nod and turn to the girl.

    “Did you have something in mind?” You hope it isn’t something too complicated for you.

    “I want that sunset–” she points to where you abandoned your chalkboard “–on my arm, please!” she pats her forearm.

    Thank god this kid is easier to please than you thought. You were hyping yourself up to having to draw a full face of tiger or leopard or something.

    “You got it! But you have to stay still, okay?”

    The kid cheers an agreement, and you open the jars to start working. Before you finish mixing your first color of paint, Jongin comes back with the water. You work as quickly as you dare while trying your best to make it look nice. Skin paint is quite different than the other paints you’ve used, but it’s not so different that you have too hard of a time. It doesn’t take long before you rinse your brush for the final time and asks for her opinion of it.

    She was very pleased, to say the least.

    The little boy who approached you asks for a blue and green butterfly on his cheek. When you say you can’t make it look like a super real butterfly, the boy– Jackson, he tells you– assures you that it doesn’t have to look real. It only has to be blue and bright green with a black body. You smile and start mixing a green that Jackson is pleased with.

    You’ve quickly finished the body and are working on the second of four wings when you see a very familiar hand out of the corner of your eye just before it lands on your shoulder. You turn to see Jongdae and smile up at him. He looks a bit wary, but knowing how protective of you he is and how long you’ve probably been gone for, you don’t need to question why. Not wanting to make your housemates or the children uneasy or tense, you turn back to your work as casually as you can.

    “I may try to pick up on face painting and stuff like this,” you tell him, “It’s kind of fun, and I know plenty of children at the art fairs I attend would love this type of thing. Especially now that I know I have people I trust to leave with the booth alone. That is, if you guys would want to.”

    He squeezes your shoulder in acknowledgement, then promptly changes the subject. “We were worried about you. We didn’t want to alert Neil or Torrence of your absence in case they got suspicious and kicked us out, but they noticed eventually anyway. They were kinda mad.”

    “That Jongin guy is covering for you, though.” Baekhyun pipes up on your other side. A quick glance tells you he’s carefully watching as you draw the first bottom wing. “He seems pretty cool, so far.”

    “He seems kind enough. He was the one who got these paints.”

    “Yeah!” a child exclaims from across the table, “Jongin’s the best and everyone loves him!”

    “He’s super cool and goes on super secret spy missions!” another adds.

    Despite how curious you are of the man, you keep your questions to yourself and your eyes on the butterfly. “Oh really?”

    “Mhm!” Jackson hums, staying surprisingly still as you add the last details.

    “He’s our leader! So he has to, mama said so!” the second girl proudly states.

    You and Jongdae share a look, “Jongin’s your leader?”

    “Yea!”

    “He’s super nice, just like you!”

    “Are you going to be staying here?”

    You hesitate, and Baekhyun replies for you, “I don’t think we’ll be staying here all the time like you guys, but we’d like to come back if we’re allowed.”

    Jackson turns in his chair to face him, “Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

    You start working on the “swirly, rainbow design” the second girl from the group who approached you wanted. You think you have an idea, and if she doesn’t like it, then she can wash it off and you can try again, maybe with a reference.

    “I’m not a slave.” you answer cautiously. Amelia took it well, but you don’t know about the other kids.

    “Oh! That’s fine!” Jackson exclaims.

    “One of our members, Joe, isn’t a slave.” a young teenager informs from behind you, “She has her own place out of town and visits every couple of weeks. I think she covers it up by telling her friends that she’s visiting family or something.”

    “And she isn’t lying! We’re all family here!” Does this girl not have any volume control? She must be a nightmare in the resting room.

    The teen with dirty blonde hair styled what could only be described as an emo fringe walks up to the table in front of you, “I’m Thomas, this loud mouth is Miran–”

    “–Hey! I’m not a loud mouth!–”

    “And butterfly boy is Jackson.” She pats the older girl from the original trio’s head, “This one’s Liv, and the one you’re painting is Analice. There’s also Amelia and Ethan–”

    “Amelia is sweet.” you blurt.

    “Oh, you met her already?” Thomas nods, “Yea, she’s very sweet. What room did she recommend to you?”

    “The resting room.” You look up from your near-complete work, “She does that often?”

    He nods again, “With every newcomer she can catch. And if she happens to meet every newcomer comes through within the first few hours,” he shrugs, “we don’t do anything about it. She’s a good judge of character, even if she doesn’t know it yet. Every person that she or Torrence hated for no reason ended up trying to screw us over at some point. So if she’s offering the resting room to you already, then you must be calm and quiet or anxious. And she probably likes you already, too.”

    You finish the colorful, swirly design (that no one has to know is the pattern of one of your childhood comforters) on Analice’s arm, and the young girl smiles thankfully at you before showing it off to Thomas. The boy compliments it, and she compliments his butterfly in return. It’s innocent and sweet.

    “Yea, we have our own instant people judge–”

    “Y/n!” Jongin calls, making your heart suddenly pound, “Before you start the next person, can you come here please!”

    The kids wave and say “bye!” with varying levels of glee and disappointment. You wave back with a smile as you head back to where you were beckoned. Jondae stands close enough to you that your arms are pressed against each other from shoulder to wrist, and you focus on that contact in order to not panic. When you’re within talking distance of the small group, Jongin asks a question.

    “Are you any good with enamel paint?”

    You blink. He must catch your confusion.

    “I think you’re trustworthy, and at least five of the seven slaves you have agree with me, but judging by the way those two–” he nods to Baekhyun and Jongdae “–are acting as your personal bodyguards while seeming perfectly comfortable around you, I’d say that you’re either a really good manipulator, or they like you too. For some reason I have a feeling that it’s not the first option, either. So, do you have any experience working with enamel paint? I think I may have a job for you.”

    “Wait, you’re going to trust me just like that? Isn’t it dangerous to just accept strangers?”

    Jongin shrugs, “Well, unless they’ve started hiring top-notch actors that remain undercover and in perfect character for years before striking, I’m willing to bet that you aren’t any kind of spy. And you’re no stranger. I know exactly who you are and who you’re related to, and I also know you won’t sell us out, right?” The last sentence is said in a threatening tone, the smile on his face taking on a sharp edge.

    You already have enough on your plate with those crazy neighbors and your stepmother getting out of hand, unless she isn’t and you’re just losing patience with her. Either way, there’s no way you’re going to try to find out what kind of threat lies beyond that smile. The rebels can be terrifying when they want to be. Thankfully, they’ve been pretty much entirely peaceful, minus the occasional break in to highly classified areas, but you can’t blame them for those kinds of stunts.

    “Yeah. No, I won’t. Sell you out, I mean.”

    “Good!” Completely back to normal. “Now then, I don’t think you answered when I asked if you have experience with enamel paint?”

    You nod, still processing, always processing, “Yeah. I painted on a plow in high school.”

    Jongin beams, “Perfect! That’s more experience than our last guy had! Come now! You can finish body painting a bit later. I’ll tell Vanessa to promise them that.” he starts walking out of the children’s area and down the main area, so you follow him, Jongdae still pressed against your side. “I want you to make some of our machines blend into the ground as much as possible. I have people working on getting high quality pictures of the areas I want them in, but for now we can just do a solid color or two, just to get the base color done.”

    You’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and ask what the technology is. “How big are these things? Are they going to be camouflaged more as rocks or grass?”

    “They’re just casings around cameras and recorders, so pretty small. I’m hoping to have them look like rocks or pieces of debris under plants or trash on the sidewalk. It depends on where exactly we put these things. Today I just want you to look at them.”

    He steps inside the technology room and holds the curtain open so all eight of you can enter. You can’t stop yourself from gawking at everything. Right in the center of the room is a table that has a bunch of small gadgets and parts all over it, along with the occasional took here and there, almost like organized chaos. Along the back wall is where all of the larger tools are, like welders and saws and such, along with the large, metal tool storage compartment. On the right wall is a table that is attached to the entire length of it and is covered in papers that could also be described as an organized chaos.

    “Those are identical to the ones we saw.” you hear Kyungsoo say.

    Turning around, you find out exactly what he meant. The half of the left wall is covered in screens, very similar screens as the ones crammed into that bobby trapped room. The control panel is completely identical. All it needs is a bit of wear and tear and a bit more cramming and it’s a perfect match. It’s even more unsettling when the fact the entrance was identical to the tunnel at the manor as well, and that Chanyeol apparently recognizes the hatch to get in.

    “What’s identical to what?” a woman at the screens asks. It’s clear that the people in here are lost.

    You watch Kyungsoo get closer to Sehun as the former answers, “Where did you get those monitors and the control panel?”

    Jongin looks concerned as he steps forward, “We pulled them out of a dump right outside the city. Why? What’s wrong?”

    “There’s a set identical to the one in the manor next to ours,” you answer flatly, your eyes never leaving the control panel, “That’s where we found Sehun. He wasn’t in good condition, we’ll say. And he was far from the first”

    “Police didn’t care, obviously, but we do.” Jongdae finishes, then turns to Jongin. “You’re sure this came out of a dump? Do you know where it originally came from?”

    He shakes his head, “No, no clue. The logos were all scratched or carved out.”

    “If you’ll have us, we can come by as often as we think is safe so I can paint these? I don’t know if I can be gone for much longer with my phone shut off.”

    "When’s the next time you can come?”

    “Within the week.” you answer easily, “I can see what I can do about getting supplies as well, if you want. I’m known for randomly buying things in bulk, so it won’t look too odd on records.”

    Everyone looks pleased, if not uneasy, and Jongin nods. “If you’re insisting, then just more enamel paints and some real paint brushes would be extremely helpful. Just for now.”

    You smile, and it’s surprisingly not completely forced, “Easy enough.”

    “Are we going to have to find our way back as the second trial? Or will we follow someone back?” Minseok jokes with an easy smile.

    “You’ll be following us again.” Torrence steps through the curtain separating this room and the main area, with Neil right behind him. You’re not even surprised that they were eavesdropping, and you don’t blame them for doing so, either.

    “It’s getting pretty late, will you need a place to stay for the night? I think I have an extra room.”

    You only offer to be polite, and you’re almost positive he’ll decline and say he’ll get a hotel room for the night instead. Although, unlikely events still have a chance at taking place, apparently.

    “If you don’t mind?” Neil asks, “I’d hate to intrude.”

    “Not at all,” Jongdae answers when he feels you stiffen, “You can take mine and the spare room.” 

    “Or you can share the spare and we can bring up the inflatable mattress.” Chanyeol continues, “As someone who’s slept on that thing many times before, it ain’t too bad.”

    After a couple minutes of discussion, they decide to share the spare bedroom. Sehun, Kyungsoo, and Junmyeon all appear just as everyone’s about to leave. Sehun ends up not having any problems with them staying either, and with that, they head out. If anyone notices you and Sehun sharing equally nervous glances at the thought of sharing the manor with strangers– strangers who were just mad at you for disappearing not too long ago– then they don’t comment on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! It’s been another hot minute, huh? Well, life got me a tad bit busy (when does it not tbh) on top of me making my own fandom fanfic blog (I don’t know when to stop). It also doesn’t help that this chapter _fought_ me. Like I don’t know who put what in its breakfast, but it was _rough_. So!! I gave up!! Have this filler chapter that’s 95% dialogue!! This was literally just the set up for the plot happening next chapter!! So just take this!! I’m _done_!!!  
> Thank you all for your infinite amount of patience as I scream into the void and try to force another chapter to somehow appear out of thin air. Spoiler alert, fanfic chapters can’t write themselves, sadly, and the void can't help either. 😔 Whelp, until next time!! I hope you all have a pleasant day/night!! 😊

**Author's Note:**

> Find me and Nunchi on Tumblr [@nunchiwrites](https://nunchiwrites.tumblr.com)!!


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